


Fairytalia

by chelonianmobile



Series: Fairytalia [1]
Category: ANDERSEN Hans Christian - Works, Hetalia: Axis Powers, Kinder- und Hausmärchen | Grimm's Fairy Tales, Murder Ballads - Fandom, Turandot - Puccini
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Animal Death, Class Issues, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, F/F, F/M, Gen, Injury, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Multi, Murder, Nyoexistence, Nyotalia, Religious Content, Sexism, Slavery, Torture, everyone is bi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7925962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelonianmobile/pseuds/chelonianmobile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fairytales, folksongs, and any old stories I feel like. I'm steering clear of the common ones - no Snow White and Cinderella here - so perhaps you'll find some new ones. With thanks to Kitty_KatAllie's Hetalia Fairy Tales for inspiration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Grimms' "The Singing Bone" and the many variations of the "Cruel Sister" ballad.

Once there were two siblings, older brother and younger sister, who lived in a town beside a river. Both were tall and slender, bright-eyed and golden-tanned and with dark hair which they wore in matching braids, each with one long curl at the front. The brother Yong-Soo was a sweet and charming lad, with a bright smile and ready wit. The sister Yun-Soo was not so beloved, being cold of manner and sharp of tongue, but her brother shielded her from others' contempt even at those times she turned her own on him, and their fights never lasted long. The brother farmed their garden and chopped the wood, and the sister fished the river and hunted the woodlands, and they lived together quite contentedly.

However, the peace was not to last. A terrible ogre, shaped like a man but as tall as a tree and dressed in the furs of great wolves and wild horses, came from the steppes of the West. The creature devoured cattle and crushed rice fields, and all who stood against it were killed. Entire armies fell before it, and the soothsayers all agreed that numbers would not help; what was needed was a solitary true-hearted hero, as is often the case with great monsters.

One day there was a great commotion in the town square, the brother and sister ran to see what was up; both fell to their knees and bowed as they realised the royal procession had arrived. What was King Yao doing in their tiny town?

"... and so, whosoever shall rid the kingdom of the ogre shall become my consort!" The young king finished his proclamation and looked about the square. "I have seen many strong men and women throughout the kingdom, surely I can find one who will try, aru?"

Yong-Soo and Yun-Soo looked up at King Yao. He was young and strong and handsome, with fair skin and long dark hair, and both felt their hearts flutter. Both jumped up and both cried "I will!"

The king smiled proudly at them. "Good! I wish you both the best of luck."

The king and his entourage left for the next town, and brother and sister looked at each other.

"You?" Yun-Soo sneered. "Really?"

"Well, yes. Why not?"

"You're not a hunter, brother, I am! I'll be the one to slay it. You wait at home or you'll get hurt." Yun-Soo strutted away, laughing.

Yong-Soo knew she was right, but he was not about to let this go. He would have given his sister anything, but not this, not his true love. So he went into the depths of the bamboo forest, to the lair of the greatest and wisest dragon, to ask for help. The dragon was vast and terrifying, a great green creature with claws and teeth like swordblades, but it could not fight the monster itself, for the dragons of that country are peaceful creatures whose task is to bring the rain, and if it was harmed the people could starve in a drought and would be worse off than before.

"Great Dragon, I need to slay the ogre! Please tell me how I can. True love is at stake, da-ze!"

"True love? Well, that is serious," the dragon said. "More than your whole country?"

"My sister is a fine hunter and filled with determination, she could slay the ogre, there's no need to worry over that. I simply need to do it before she does, or she'll be the one to marry the king!"

"Ah, I see," said the dragon, and plucked a bamboo sapling from the ground and a sharp scale from his own back. "Make a spear from these. With a dragon's blessing, a weapon will always strike true."

Yong-Soo cut a groove in the top of the bamboo stave, firmly tied the scale into it, and set off on his sister's trail, through the forest towards the plains where the ogre had last been seen.

~

Many days after, brother and sister reached another town, dragging behind them the ogre's head on a makeshift sledge of wood. Runners were immediately sent to every nearby town, and from there to the next towns, and the next, till soon the whole country would know they were free. However, that was in the future, and right now brother and sister were fighting again.

"You never would have killed it without me!" cried Yun-Soo.

 _"You_ never would have without _me!"_ Yong-Soo replied.

"You arrived after I'd been fighting it for hours, you barely did anything!"

"I arrived in time to save your life!"

"I led it into the forest so you could strike!"

"I climbed the tree to reach its heart!"

The argument went on and on and on, and finally Yong-Soo gave in just a little. "Look, this is silly. We both worked to kill it. We'll go tell both our stories to the king, and we'll see what he says. Sounds fair, da-ze?"

Yun-Soo shook his hand. "You're right. We slew the ogre together, we shall go to see the king together. He can choose one of us himself." She did not sound sincere, but that was usual.

So both set off down the river to the capital, and that was the last the townsfolk saw of them.

~

Many days after that, in another village far down the river, little Xiao Mei the mill-worker sat upon a stone, weaving flowers into her long dark hair, for it was decreed everyone should celebrate the marriage of the king. She dipped her feet in the rushing water and watched the mill-wheels turn, and happened to glance something dark falling over the weir; she stood up to look, and yes, there was a figure in the water.

"Master Honda, Master Honda!" she cried as she ran to fetch the miller. "There's a ghost in the river!"

"Don't talk nonsense, little Mei," said Honda. "There is no such thing."

"Yes there is!" cried Mei, and pointed to the river.

"What?" Honda peered closer, and gasped as he saw what was caught on the spokes of the wheel. "Little Mei, that is not a ghost. Run and fetch a fishing pole."

Mei did, and Honda took the long pole with the sharpened hook and drew the body up to shore, bloated and blue from drowning, clothes rotting, and hair flowing free and filled with mud. Mei wept to see it, and used wet grass to at least wash the hair clean. "Who was it, Master Honda?"

"How could I know? Nobody from our town, I know that. Travellers pass by quite often by the road and river, perhaps if we lay the body out on the bank someone will know it." So that is what they did, and the corpse dried in the sun.

It so happened that a foreign musician was passing by, travelling to the king's court to play at the wedding feast as a gift from his own king, and he saw the body upon the bank. Of course he knew not who it was, but the hair had dried and after Mei's washing was as fine and gleaming as ever. This musician, one Ivan Braginsky, was known far and wide as a strange man with few morals and little fear, and it happened that he wanted new balalaika strings. So he took a knife and cut off the long black hair, back and front, saying happily to himself "Well, its owner shan't be needing it now." And he left the body there, hurrying off as he remembered the royal bride's escort would be coming up this road soon. It wouldn't do to let them see him running late.

~

The marriage ceremony was over, and King Yao sat upon his golden throne, his new consort beside him and strings of lanterns above them, both dressed all in red. "Music!" cried the king, clapping his hands. "Let us have music! Where is the musician the king of the North sent to me?"

"Here, your Majesty," said Ivan, kneeling before the thrones.

"Play us something merry on that instrument of yours, aru?"

"As your Majesty commands."

But as soon as his fingers touched the dark strings, the balalaika began to play alone, and continued when Ivan dropped it in fright. The court fell silent, and as it played on, a maiden's voice sang sadly from it.

"As we walked by the river's brim  
My older brother pushed me in.  
'Brother, brother, bring me to land  
And you'll take my place at the king's right hand!'  
'Sister, sister, that'll never be  
Till salt and rice should grow on a tree,  
Shame on me if I took the glove  
That stood 'twixt me and my true love!  
Miller, sir miller, here's gold coins ten  
To throw the body in again.'" 

And the whole court turned and saw Prince Consort Yong-Soo had turned deathly white in fear.


	2. Black, Red, and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the Spanish fairytale "Black, Red, and Gold", in Ruth Manning-Sanders' "A Book of Enchantments and Curses". I've not been able to find it anywhere else, but maybe I could if I spoke any Spanish, and it's a nice story anyway.

Far in the north, deep in a forest which lay beside an ocean, a tiny cottage stood, and in it lived a loving but sorrowful couple. They worked hard and had all they needed, but were sorrowful because they could not have what they wanted, for both were men, and so they could not bear a child.

The thunderstorms in that northern land were fierce, and one dark and stormy autumn night there was a knock upon the cottage door, the sound almost lost in the thunder. Berwald, the bigger and stronger man, answered the door, in case the knocker should bring danger; as it turned out, they did not. The short, slight figure at the door was wrapped in the rags of a cloak that was doing nothing to shield it from the weather, and trembled with the cold.

"Y'want in?" Berwald said, holding the door open and gesturing to the warm hearth. "C'mon. Wife!"

Tino, the second man, hurried to the door and led the stranger in. "Oh, you poor thing! It's terrible out there. Come on, sit by the fire and have some stew." He took the stranger's sodden cloak, and revealed him to be a youth with silver hair, bearing no weapon. Tino served the rabbit stew, and all three sat down to eat. The stranger gave only a nod and no smile, and spoke little, but the couple understood, as Berwald smiled and spoke even less than the stranger did, and Tino talked and laughed enough for all of them. From the answers Tino coaxed from him, they found the stranger's name was Lukas, and he was travelling inland.

Berwald went to find a blanket for Lukas, and while he searched the cupboard Lukas asked Tino quietly, "Why does he call you wife?"

"Oh, it's just a joke between us," Tino said. "We, well, you see, we're happy, but we obviously can't have children of our own. We thought it might help to laugh about the reason." From his tone, it didn't seem it had.

"Hm." Lukas put down his bowl and nodded, and said no more.

That night Lukas slept in the couples' bed while they slept on furs on the floor, and when they rose at dawn they found him already up and the sun shining. "Good morning," said Tino. "Will you stay for breakfast?" Lukas would, indeed, and when he finished his bread, he spoke.

"I carry no money, but I can repay you with something better. I have spoken to the good spirits, and they tell me how you may grant your dearest wish. First, you will need carrots."

"Carrots?"

Lukas nodded. "Carrots."

And so he told them, and the method sounded foolish, but he sounded so sincere, and they decided they might at least try.

So, that very day, they set out into the woods towards the mountains, with a bundle of fat carrots slung on Berwald's back. When they came to the mountain, as Lukas had instructed, they climbed up it. The climb was hard, but both were strong and determined, and soon enough they reached the top where snow crunched beneath their boots and a great dark cave yawned before them.

"Hello?" Tino called, and Berwald put down the carrots. "Mr Lukas sent us here. We've brought a gift!"

There was a fluttering sound, and from the cave emerged a tiny green rabbit with little wings on its back. It sniffed at them, and sat down to eat the carrots.

"This is the great cave guardian which would eat us?" Tino said, but Berwald took no chances and pulled him into the cave. Inside, he lit their lantern, and the light revealed a great bed, upon which lay a sleeping youth with the biggest, thickest eyebrows the two had ever seen, made up of hair of many colours, and a wand topped with a star in his hand. Berwald gently shook the youth, and he rolled over and woke.

"What? Go away, I've been hungover for twenty years and I need to sleep twenty more," he groaned.

"Uh, hello, sir. Are you the great sorceror Arthur?"

"When I'm awake, yes." Arthur sat up and shook his head. "Will this be quick?"

Tino nodded, and said "A traveller called Lukas sent us here, he said you could grant us our wish."

"Lukas? Dammit, why does he keep sending people to me at the worst times? He's as magical as I am, but oh no, stupid wizard's union rules..." Arthur got out of bed, still grumbling, and waved his wand. In a flash of light, a pear appeared in Berwald's hand and an apple in Tino's. "Eat these, and plant the seeds in your garden," he said, and started getting back into bed.

"What, this is it?" Tino said, frowning.

"Ah, good point," muttered Arthur, and paused. "Magical children always do seem to get into mishaps. Here." He plucked three long thick hairs from his right eyebrow; one black, one red, and one golden. With another wave of his wand, they were tied up with thread and bound to Tino's finger. "Do not lose these. Give them to your firstborn, and they'll bring a little magic in his time of greatest need. Now sod off, I said I needed to sleep."

"That wasn't what I meant..." Tino said, but Arthur was already snoring.

~

"All that for two fruits and a tiny lock of hair!" Tino cried when they arrived home. "And how could planting seeds now help? It's coming up to winter, the cold would kill them before they grew!"

Berwald took the pear, and shrugged, and said "Well, can't do us much harm," and ate it. It tasted like a perfectly ordinary pear, but he planted the seeds in the corner of the garden anyway, and put the apple in the cupboard.

The very next day, Tino was amazed to find a tiny sprout at the place where the seeds had been planted. Sure it must be coincidence, he left it alone, but after three days had passed it was definitely a sprouting sapling, and it looked like a pear tree. "Seems you were right," he said to Berwald, and took out the apple. "There's certainly something going on with these. Shall we try this too?" Berwald nodded, and Tino ate the apple and planted the seeds beside the pear, and soon an apple sapling was sprouting too. Berwald cut a small piece from the pear tree and carved a locket to hold the three tiny hairs.

Through the autumn the trees grew, and in the winter Tino wrapped furs around them to be sure they would not freeze. They stopped growing taller when they lost their leaves, but he swore each day they got fatter. In the spring they grew more and bore blossoms; by summer they both bulged in the trunk. Less than two weeks after midsummer's day, the pear tree split open, and from it came an infant boy. Tino and Berwald hurried out to bring the child in, and fed him milk and wrapped him in blankets and gave him the locket of hair.

Three days later, the apple tree split, and out came another boy. Both had soft blond hair just like both their new fathers; the pear boy had Tino's violet eyes, the apple boy Berwald's blue. Tino and Berwald named the first Matthew, after a saint, and the second Alfred, after a king, and joyfully raised the boys as their own. Berwald still called Tino his wife, and now Tino really did laugh when he did, and so did the boys when they were old enough to understand, and Berwald never laughed aloud but his eyes would glimmer with joy. The boys grew so fast they would soon be as tall and strong as Berwald, and Matthew was as gentle and Alfred as cheerful as Tino. They listened to their fathers' story of how they came to be, and Matthew always wore the locket of hair. And for ten long years, they were happy.

On Matthew's tenth birthday, the boys went out to play; Tino gave them a basket full of bread and herring, and said "Stay in the woods. There have been rumours going around of pirates at the coast, slavers, and if they see you they'll take you far away and you'll never come back!"

Now, magical their birth may have been, but Berwald and Tino had wished for ordinary children, in the hopes Arthur's ominous words about magical children would not come true, and ordinary children is what Matthew and Alfred were. Usually they were well-behaved, but children everywhere will disobey their parents once in a while, and usually that is fine, for how else would they truly learn why they should do things a certain way? Unfortunately, this time they really should have listened, for the stories of pirates were true. Berwald and Tino had also wished for children like themselves, and Matthew and Alfred had their fathers' looks, but Berwald was somewhat short-sighted, and so both the boys were too. When they reached the coast the ship on the horizon was but a blur, and they saw nothing of the little boat hiding behind the cliffside. They did see the three strong men approaching, but thought they must be fishermen until it was too late, and a huge hairy hand fell on Matthew's arm.

"Matthew!" cried Alfred, and came running as the tall masked pirate picked up his brother, but Matthew saw the pirates' swords, and he screamed back "No, Alfred, run for help!" Alfred knew his brother was wiser and more cautious than he, and did as he was asked. As Matthew struggled in the masked pirate's arms, the scar-faced pirate ran after Alfred into the woods, and soon Matthew was bound and gagged and the scar-faced pirate returned with a foul temper and no Alfred.

"Leave him," said the smallest pirate, a handsome man with red coat and green eyes and a captain's hat. "I have a special order for a little blond boy, and that man will pay as much for one as anyone else would two. Now get back to the ship before he brings help!"

Matthew was carried into the boat and onto the ship, and tied by the ankle to the mast for the long, long journey. All the way there he trembled and cried, and endured the taunts and jeers of the pirates, though none hurt him; to mark him would ruin his price. Nobody cared to take his locket, for it was only wood, and they could have gold if they wanted. When they made land in a great city by a sunny sea where beautiful flowers bloomed and the market sold sweet bright fruits Matthew had never seen before, his face was scrubbed, his hair was combed, and he was carried off to a beautiful mansion. Matthew was afraid, for ten is old enough to know the wickedness of the world and not old enough to face it without fear, especially alone. The captain knocked on the door, and a golden-bearded man appeared.

"We have your special order, Monsieur Bonnefoy," said the captain, sweeping off his hat and presenting Matthew.

Monsieur Bonnefoy looked at him and cried out in joy, and swept him up in his arms. "C'est bon, Carriedo, tres bon! He looks just like me! Look at his hair!" he said, ruffling Matthew's soft locks and poking at the one long stubborn curl. "He's perfect! Now I can have a child of my own without all the tedium of being married and having to restrict my love!"

Matthew let the man embrace him and sighed with relief.

~

Monsieur Bonnefoy's house, as Matthew found, was filled with beautiful things, and all his slaves and servants were chosen for their beauty too. Matthew did look rather like Mr Bonnefoy, and so in the master's eyes he was declared the most beautiful of all. Matthew was loved and pampered like a favourite pet, complete with the collar all slaves wore, taught to read and speak new languages so he could better amuse his master's beautiful and wealthy friends at parties, and given no tasks more strenuous than carrying Mr Bonnefoy's shopping (which, admittedly, was a lot of shopping, but Matthew was strong). Better still, when Mr Bonnefoy noticed Matthew squinting, he took him to the glassmaker and bought him a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, and suddenly Matthew could see better than ever. No kinder master could have existed, but Matthew was still a slave, and still far from home, and still full of sorrow. Mr Bonnefoy loved him very much, but the household slaves and servants hated him. "Who are you," they said, "to be loved and spoiled so, while we must work?" Soon enough, when he tried to speak to them, they simply said "Who are you?" and laughed. So three long years passed, and Matthew spent most of them in his luxurious bedroom with silken sheets and a balcony, longing for the cosy bed of furs he shared with his brother in the little wooden cottage.

"Matthieu, Matthieu, I've brought you a friend!" called Mr Bonnefoy as he arrived home one day. "Here is the new maid, Michelle! Isn't she lovely?" With him was a brown-skinned girl with a blue dress and long dark hair in red ribbons, a slave's collar on her neck. "Play nicely now," trilled Mr Bonnefoy, and pushed the girl towards Matthew.

Matthew blushed, and shuffled his feet. "Um, hello, I'm Matthew. I'll show you around."

Matthew showed Michelle her duties and gave her the frilly black dress with the little white apron and cap that Mr Bonnefoy's maids wore, and left her to work alongside the other slaves, sure they would turn her against him, for they still hated him. However, they did not. Some days later she nervously asked to speak to him, fearful in case he should turn on a mere maid who dared to speak to him, though slaves they both were. He leapt at the chance, longing for a friend, and friends they became. When Michelle's work was done, each told the other stories of their homes; Matthew of the snowy forests and rocky shores, Michelle of the island which was even sunnier and brighter than Mr Bonnefoy's homeland and stayed that way all year.

"I'd love to see it," said Matthew.

Michelle sighed and said "So would I." Her eyes brightened with tears, and Matthew comforted her. "Matthew, dear Matthew, you are the master's favourite. I've never heard you ask him for anything, and I've heard him say many times he would give you anything you did ask for! Surely if you ask for my freedom, he'll give it? I can't bear another day away from home!"

Without hesitation, Matthew hurried to Mr Bonnefoy's study, and found the gentleman sipping wine and reading. "Monsieur?"

"Papa, Matthew, call me Papa!"

Matthew did not want to. His Papa was Tino, not Mr Bonnefoy. But he put on a smile and said "Yes, Papa. I have a favour to ask. The new maid, Michelle... She's homesick. Could you please, maybe, um, send her home?"

"Ah, poor dear!" sighed Mr Bonnefoy. "How could I send an innocent child out into the world? Does she even know where she could go from here? She was captured once, it could happen again, and next time she might not find herself with a master so kind as I! If I send her away, she'll only come to grief. I couldn't do that to her! But here," he said, taking a fine gold ring from his smallest finger. "This should fit her. Tell her it is a token of my care for her."

When Matthew entered the maids' room with the ring that evening and explained what Mr Bonnefoy had said, Michelle burst into tears and threw the ring to the floor. "What? I'm supposed to be grateful for baubles while I'm kept prisoner?" She threw herself onto her little bed and wrapped her blanket over her head, and would not move whatever Matthew said. He sighed, and picked up the ring, and went to his own bed, wishing with all his heart he could help.

That night, Matthew dreamed. He found himself in a cavern lit only by a flickering lantern, with a bed in the centre and a young man with the most extraordinary eyebrows upon the bed.

"Well, it seems I was right. You have got yourself in quite a scrape, haven't you, lad?" said the man, not unkindly.

"Are you the sorceror Arthur?" Matthew asked, and when the man nodded, Matthew shouted "Where have you _been_ these past three years? I'm a slave! I'm miles from home! Dad and Papa and Alfred probably think I'm dead! Some magic your gift brought me!"

"Hey, easy there, boy," said Arthur, affronted. "I'm still asleep, you know! Dreamwalking was never my speciality, I'm a wish-granter, and when I'm sleeping it's hard to control whose wishes I pick up."

"If you didn't hear my wishes to go home before, why can you hear them now?"

"I didn't." Arthur smiled sadly. "Wishes on another's behalf are always far, far stronger."

"Oh," Matthew murmured. "Michelle..."

"Yes." Arthur stood up and touched Matthew's locket. "A dark-haired girl in a black maid's dress, yes - that'll be the black hair. Don't fret, my magic will help. It just can't do so from inside the locket. Take the black hair and throw it to the ground, and you'll see what happens. I must warn you, though; save the other two for when they're truly needed."

Matthew awoke, hands clutched around his locket. He sat up and got out of bed; it was after midnight and long before dawn. Just a dream, surely. How much help could someone's eyebrow hair really give? _Well,_ he thought, _the worst that can happen is nothing, and if nothing happens I'm better off without a useless magic item._ He opened the locket, running his finger over the carved patterns Berwald had made, and held up the three hairs to the bright moonlight. One pale, one medium, one dark; he took the dark one, and threw it down as hard as a tiny hair could possibly be thrown. It drifted down and landed on the carpet.

There was a shimmer, and up from the little hair sprang a brown-skinned girl with a black dress and dark hair in two red ribbons, the perfect image of Michelle. The maid smiled, curtsied, and said "Master, what shall I do?"

Matthew blushed very, very red at the pretty girl calling him "master", but he kept his wits about him. "Um, your name is Michelle, my name is Matthew, and you shall be a maid in this house, in the service of my master, Monsieur Francis Bonnefoy. Is that okay?"

"That I shall do," said the maiden. "Of course it is okay. I am made to serve."

"Okay. Then, um..." He found the ring on his dresser and put it on her finger; it fit perfectly. "When you see Mr Bonnefoy, thank him for this ring and for his care."

"That I shall do."

Matthew took a purse and stuffed it with coins, and crept downstairs to the slave's quarters, and found the maids' room. The girls were all asleep; he checked carefully to find Michelle's bed, and when he found it he shook her awake. "Michelle! Come with me. I found someone who can take your place." Half-asleep, she let him lead her to the back door, and he unlocked it.

"But how am I supposed to get home from here?" she sniffled. "Mr Bonnefoy was right..." She stopped when Matthew put the purse in her hand; she shook it, and threw her arms around him and kissed his cheeks. "Oh, thank you, _merci,_ thank you! I'll never forget you!"

"Maybe spend some of that on a bodyguard?" Matthew hugged her back. "Don't cry. One day I'll be free as well, and I'll come and see you!"

"I'd like that. Good fortune be with you!" Michelle kissed him once more, and ran down the path, and was gone.

~

Matthew thought long and hard over the next months about the hair locket, as Michelle's replacement went unnoticed by all but him. Black hair for a dark-haired copy, surely the gold one would make one for himself. But then who was the third? None of the servants had red hair. Perhaps he should stay to see what happened. Arthur had said to keep the hairs for when they were needed most, and if he tried to use them now and nothing happened, he could lose them, or somehow use up the magic. He tried to dream of Arthur again, but nothing worked, and so he decided to keep the hairs and see what happened.

Life in the mansion was miserable again, as the servants still ignored him, and the new Michelle was a perfect maid but very dull to speak to. She obviously knew nothing of the real Michelle's faraway home, and only smiled politely when Matthew tried to talk to her about his own. And so three years passed, and at the end of the third year Mr Bonnefoy brought home another new slave. This time, the slave was a kitchen boy, a youth from a nearby country, with pink cheeks and auburn hair with a single long curl rather like Matthew's own. When Matthew asked his name, the boy stopped sobbing long enough to introduce himself as Feliciano; Matthew hugged him tightly, and his weeping soon calmed to an occasional sniff.

Feliciano did not do as well as Michelle had. His hands shook from fear and crying, so he would drop his broom and knock over bottles and bowls; the cook would hit him, and his hands would shake even more. "I can do this, I can, I swear I can!" he would cry, and he would drop something else. One day when he spilled red wine on his apron, Matthew ran to help him and ordered the cook to stop. The cook sneered, but would not outright disobey the master's favourite, and left Feliciano alone. From then on he and Matthew were friends, and Matthew's comfort helped him stay calm and become less clumsy. Matthew told him of the forests and mountains, as he had with Michelle, and Feliciano, or Feli as he preferred, told him of the beautiful city he had lived in with his grandfather and brother.

"Signor Bonnefoy is all about the love, right?" he said. "He'd know I love my brother and grandpa. I want to go home! Matthew, please, ask him to let me go? I'm not even doing much good here."

Matthew sighed. "I'll try, but it didn't work the last time."

Sure enough, Mr Bonnefoy told Matthew again that Feli would only come to grief if he was allowed to wander free. "He can barely tie his shoes, how can he find his way home? And besides, that's what you said about little Michelle, and look how happy she is now!" Matthew flinched. Mr Bonnefoy didn't notice, and gave him a fine linen neckerchief. "See, give this to Feli as a token of my care."

Feli was as pleased with his gift as Michelle had been with the ring. "Covering up my collar won't make me forget it's there!" he cried. "What's the point of it when it'll only get ruined in the kitchen anyway and I still won't have my family?" He threw the tie to the floor and himself into bed. Matthew looked at Feli's auburn hair and red face and russet breeches and the red stains of wine and sauce on his apron, and knew what he must do.

Once again, Matthew dreamed of Arthur. "The red hair, this time?" he asked. "I just thought I should talk to you first."

"Smart lad you are, and pure of heart too. Couldn't have grown better, if I do say so myself."

"I have a question. Why won't the magic let me free anyone else? If I had a dozen hairs I could make one for every slave in the house."

"If you had every hair on my head, you couldn't free every slave on earth," said Arthur sadly. "More would simply be taken, and the place would get terribly crowded. No, solving that's a job for politics, not magic, and magic needs a little boost."

"What's the boost?"

"In this case? Friendship and mutual kindness."

"One more question. Why haven't you heard my family's wishes for me to come home? You said wishes for someone else are stronger."

"I _have_ heard them, but I'm working on it through you. If I could just magic you home I'd have done that right off, wouldn't I? Stay patient and keep an eye out for the best time."

Matthew woke, and checked the hairs in the moonlight, and threw down the red one, and a pink-cheeked boy with auburn hair and red-stained apron appeared and said "Master, what shall I do?"

"Your name is Feliciano, my name is Matthew, and you are a kitchen boy in the house of Monsieur Francis Bonnefoy. Please try not to break things."

"That I will do."

"When you see the master, thank him for this neckerchief."

"That I will do."

Matthew filled another purse and ran to wake Feli.

~

With his second friend gone, the bruises he'd left with his hugs fading from Matthew's ribs and the sound of his laughter from Matthew's memory, Matthew fell deeper into despair. He could simply use the third hair now and go home. But where _was_ home? He spent hours poring over the map on Mr Bonnefoy's study wall. There was Michelle's island, down in the tropics; it was tiny, and she'd said everyone knew each other, and it was on a good trading route. There was Feli's city; it was a thriving city with travellers from many places, and not too far away. But where was his family's little house? They were off in the woods, and it had been so long he couldn't remember the names of the nearest towns, and the coastline of his home country was very, very long. He found a thousand places it _might_ be, but which one? He could just set off and find out when he reached the right country. But maybe Mr Bonnefoy had been right. Maybe it was too dangerous. Michelle and Feli couldn't exactly write to him, or they'd be caught. Maybe they already had been. What if his family weren't even there anymore? It had been a long time. Alfred might have gone to seek his fortune in foreign climes as he always wanted to. Berwald and Tino might have had bad memories of the house without Matthew in it and moved to town. For all he knew they might be dead. And Arthur had said to wait till his time of greatest need. He could wait a little longer. And a little longer. And a little longer.

On his nineteenth birthday, Matthew sat on his balcony and watched the people on the street outside and the ships sailing into the bay, bitterly envious of their easy freedom. He picked idly at a bowl of cherries and flicked the stones off the railing, into the garden. One went too far and hit the cheek of a youth in salt-stained clothes, who yelped and looked up, and Matthew stifled a gasp.

"Oh, hi!" said Alfred, beaming like the sun. "Careful there, okay?"

"H-Hello," Matthew stammered.

"The name's Alfred," said Alfred, tipping his hat. "What's your name, miss?"

"I'm a boy!" Matthew protested; his voice was soft and his hair needed cutting, but surely it wasn't that bad.

"Oh, sorry!" Alfred laughed. "My sight's never been too good. What's your name, sir?"

"Call me Lointain," said Matthew with a sigh. Would Alfred even want his brother back after so long? Or would he come storming in to "rescue" him and hurt someone? "I serve Monsieur Bonnefoy."

"Nice to meet you... Lwan-ten?" Alfred mangled it.

Matthew sighed. "It means Far-away. Try that."

The two brothers talked all afternoon, Matthew gently probing for details. Alfred's fathers, he said, lived in the same cottage they always had, and Alfred had left to seek his fortune as he'd always wanted.

"I came in on a privateer ship," he said. "It's hard work, but it's important to me. I... I lost someone to pirates, long ago, and I want to make sure that one day that will never happen to anyone else again."

Matthew's heart beat faster. "When do you leave?"

"Four days' time," said Alfred. "Well, three days now - wow, it's sunset, really? Didn't realise we'd been talking so long!"

"Come back and see me before you leave?"

"Will do, Far-away!"

~

Matthew spent the next three days sorting out and packing up any clothes he wanted to keep, items he would need, and enough money to keep his fathers and brother in comfort for the rest of their lives. When he spoke to Mr Bonnefoy, he was as sweet and smiling as he could be, as the replacements of Michelle and Feli were, and watched for any sign that Mr Bonnefoy might think something was wrong. He did not; in fact, he patted Matthew's head, and said "See, Matthew, now your friends are happy and you are happy!"

On the final afternoon, Alfred appeared on the street again, and tipped his hat again. "Hi, Far-away! Sorry I couldn't come sooner, had to work. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Um, I was going to ask... Can you take me with you?"

"What?" Alfred dropped his hat. "It's a privateer ship, not a passenger ship! I don't think they'd let me. They're leaving pretty soon too. In fact, I've got to go now, or we'll miss the tide. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Okay," Matthew sighed, and picked up his bag. Alfred didn't see what he was holding. "Goodbye then, Alfred."

"Don't say that. I'll be in port again some day, we'll see each other then! See you, Far-away," said Alfred, and turned to leave.

Matthew ran down the stairs as fast as he could, bag in hand, fumbling with the locket with the other. In the hallway he stopped and looked around, and nobody was there; down he threw the final golden hair. The air shimmered, and there stood a beautiful boy with golden hair and violet eyes behind gold-rimmed spectacles, dressed all in sunny golds. Matthew almost dropped his bag. _Surely that's not what I look like? I look in the mirror every day and I don't look anything like as beautiful as that._ Then he realised what the difference was. The boy from the hair was happy.

"Master, what shall I do?" he said.

"You were a slave and now you are the master's son, and you're to love him and keep him happy, and your name is Matthew Bonnefoy!" Matthew said, and ran from the mansion, laughing and looking far more beautiful than his copy from the hair.

Alfred was turning the corner at the end of the street when he heard Matthew calling him. He stopped, and the breath was knocked out of him when Matthew embraced him.

"Whoa! Far-away, I said I didn't think you could come! What's happening?"

Matthew slipped off his glasses, wiped the tears from their lenses, and gently placed them on Alfred's face, and watched his surprise and joy bloom. Alfred threw his arms around Matthew, knocking his breath out in turn, and the brothers wept on each other's shoulders. Alfred laughed between his sobs, and said "Best birthday ever."

Alfred turned in his resignation from the privateer ship straight away, and found a passenger ship heading north; when they arrived in port in their own country, Matthew had a blacksmith break his collar's lock and a glassmaker make new spectacles for Alfred to keep. Then he bought a small boat of their own, and they sailed up the coast. After many days, they turned into a familiar little bay, and saw two sad thin men standing on the clifftop, along with a third shorter one they didn't recognise at first. As they drew closer, they saw one man seize the other's wrist and pull him down the cliffside path. The brothers beached their boat and ran up the rocky shore, right into their fathers' arms, while Arthur, awake at last, looked proudly on.

Of course, that wasn't the end of all their stories, Matthew knew. He and Alfred still wanted to fight piracy and free other slaves and have all manner of adventures, and hopefully he'd get to see Michelle and Feli again some day. But, for now, being with his family again was enough to feel like a happily ever after.


	3. The Soldiers and the Horned Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the Slavic fairy tale "The Cuirassier and the Horned Princess" and Grimm's "The Nose Tree".

Long ago and far away, the vastest empire in the world lay far in the north. It was a cold and empty place for the most part, and it may seem strange that any would want to take such bleak land, but always someone did, and so the emperor's great army would patrol the borders constantly. This was a hard life, and a dangerous one, as even when the empire was at peace there was little food and much frost, and so one day three young men who loved each other as closely as brothers chose to run away from it. This, they soon learned, was a foolish plan, for the journey home was long and they found very little food, and while they had a little money the land was so vast and the towns so far apart there was nowhere to spend it, and soon enough they were thoroughly lost in the deep woods.

One night, as all three huddled beside the firepit beneath the fir trees, boiling up mushroom soup in an old helmet, the oldest, who went by the name of Toris, heard the sound of footsteps in the snow. Weak as he was becoming, he leapt to his feet and stood before his friends with his musket ready, and cried "Who goes there?"

"Friend! Just another traveller!" came the reply, and from the shadows between the trees emerged a man with red coat, reddish hair, and one snaggle tooth. "Vladimir's my name. Might I share your fire?"

Seeing that the man was not a soldier, Toris relaxed a little and put down his gun. "Share away, and welcome, friend, in exchange for silence? It's no use denying it, you can see by our clothes we are deserters."

"I see, and I don't blame you," said Vladimir, looking at little Raivis, who was constantly shivering and barely big enough to wield his gun. "Count on me, friends. What are your names?"

"Toris, Eduard, and Raivis," Toris said, pointing at each of them in turn. "Would you like some soup? It's not much, I'm afraid."

"Thank you kindly. I would, but just a little, you all need it more than I do."

Toris filled a bowl full for the stranger even so, and drank his own soup from the makeshift pot. As they ate, the deserters took turns to tell jokes and stories of their lives, as they had become accustomed to doing to keep their minds off the hunger, and they laughed together. As night drew on, Toris gave Vladimir his blanket, and huddled up with his friends to keep warm, despite Vladimir's protestation.

"Don't worry, we're used to living with little. We'll be fine."

"I'm not so sure. It's cold, and if you're hungry it'll be worse." Vladimir drank from his bowl and thought. "You're a brave man, defending your friends, and kindness and storytelling are currency for my kind. You've given me both. I can help." From within his coat, he drew a parcel wrapped in cloth, and opened it; the wrapping was a tattered cloak, and within lay a purse and a cap. "Take one of these each."

Toris took the purse and shook it; it was heavy for such a little bag. He opened it, and gasped, and drew out a handful of gold coins. "What? Why, this is far too much for a little soup!"

"More than you think," said Vladimir. "Empty them out and shake it again." Toris did, and put his hand back in the purse, and it was as full as it had ever been. "With this, you'll never have to live off wild mushrooms again. Try the cloak, Eduard - here, put it on. Now wish to travel... let's say to the top of that tree."

Eduard held the cloak shut against the wind and said "I wish I was at the top of that tree?", and next thing he knew, he was. He yelled and clung onto the branches, and his friends shouted in surprise, but Vladimir simply called "Now wish yourself down!"; he did, and suddenly he was.

Toris frowned. "Why were you wandering the woods on foot if you have this cloak?"

"Why, magic's not new to me, and walking to adventures is! Why shouldn't I walk to see new places? I can see a lot more that way. And don't worry, I can always make more magic items."

Raivis picked up the cap and asked "W-what does this do?"

"Try it on and imagine some new clothes."

Raivis did, and soon the tattered old cap became a fine velvet hat with a feather, and his uniform became a warm fur coat and a silken suit. In surprise he whipped the hat off, and he was back in his uniform.

"As long as you're wearing it, it can be a perfect disguise," said Vladimir. Raivis put the cap back on, and laughed as his rags became finery again.

"Wouldn't this ruin the economy?" Toris asked, squinting inside the purse. "Gold's only valuable because it's rare! If mages go around handing it out at the slightest thing..."

Vladimir laughed. "Don't worry, the dragons take care of that."

Toris and Eduard and Raivis looked at each other, and Eduard said "Well, thank you so much. Why us?"

"As I said, kindness and storytelling are currency to mages. All I ask is that you use it to make more stories. Do something fun! One day we'll meet again, and I'd love to hear what you do. One more thing, though; if you run into trouble because of my gifts, shout for me. Just shout 'Vladimir, Vladimir, we need help, can you hear?' and I'll be along soon." He nodded as the three repeated the words until he was sure they remembered. "Now all of you hold hands - yes, like that. Now you can travel together. Go on, go find something better!"

The three clasped hands in a circle, and Eduard said "I suppose getting a good meal and a decent night's sleep would be a start. Okay then; I wish we were at the finest hostelry in the Empire!"

And just like that, they were. To be exact, they were in a dark corner of the courtyard, where none would notice them; the flagstones were swept clear of snow, lanterns shone on each side of the door, and more warm light shone from the windows of the fine stone building. Raivis shook harder than ever with excitement and scurried up to the door, his friends close behind him; he threw open the door and ran in.

As Raivis entered the warm bar-room - a side of beef turning over the blazing fire, men and women scattered around the room at little tables or in overstuffed armchairs, laughter filling the room and with a drink in every hand - something silver flashed over his head, and he reflexively dropped to the floor with a yell. The silver thing proved to be a dagger, which buried its tip in the wall with a _thunk_ , right in the centre of a knot-hole in the top beam of the doorway.

"Raivis!" Toris cried and swept down to pick up his frightened friend.

The barman, a sleepy-eyed blond in a frilly apron, shook his head and emerged from behind the bar to help. "Sorry about that, kiddo - uh, sir. The princess is gambling again."

"The princess?" Toris looked, and saw the girl pulling the dagger from the doorframe; a silvery-haired maiden with dainty fingers and an icy look. She saw him staring, and turned up her nose, and Toris' heart beat faster. She sauntered off, blue velvet gown swishing, and collected silver and gold from the assembled drinkers. Toris watched her.

"Here, find a table and get some food," he said to his comrades, shaking the purse and passing them handfuls of coins. "I'm going to go talk to her."

"Uh, excuse me," said the barman, hand on his hip and scowl on his face. "Princess Natalya doesn't, like, speak to just _any_ one, and I'm not sure I should even be letting you in here dressed like that."

"I'm with him," Toris said, pointing to Raivis.

"Really? I mean, really, you're in a private's uniform and it's not even, like, clean? What's a fine gentleman like him doing bringing you here?" Toris shook the purse into the barman's hand three times, and his sleepy eyes widened. "Okay, maybe I _should_ let you in. Wear whatevs, just keep buying."

With that, he busied himself cutting meat and pouring drinks for Raivis and Eduard, and Toris approached the princess and her adoring audience.

"No more takers? Anyone?" she was saying, tossing her long silvery hair. "Surely someone wants to try their luck?"

"I will!" said Toris, dropping to one knee and offering up five big gold coins. "Princess Natalya, whose beauty outshines the moon and stars, will you do me the honour of allowing me to compare my humble skills to yours?"

"Please, your highness, take it outside!" the barman begged, hands fluttering. "What if he's not as awesome as you and he hits someone or something? Your brother would be sooo mad!"

"Perhaps we should," said the princess, tapping her chin. "Yes! A contest in the dark! Much more challenging. Good idea." She threw the barman a coin, then took Toris' hand, squeezing far too tightly, and dragged him out the back.

Toris was a reasonable marksman, as he had been through standard military training, but a musket was a far cry from a knife, and he was hopeless in comparison to Princess Natalya. He aimed at the brass numbers nailed above the horse's stalls, which glistened in the moon and lantern light, and his knife bounced off the wood and landed in a feed bucket. The princess snickered and threw hers, and it lodged smack in the middle of the zero above the tenth stall. Toris handed over some gold, and they moved on to throwing at the courtyard trees. Every time, Toris gave her gold coins, and subtly shook the purse to refill it. The princess would smile, and Toris would blush, and she would not notice as she would already be aiming again.

As the evening drew on, the princess became suspicious. Her capacious coat pockets were about to rip under the weight of the coins she'd won, yet this man was in the uniform of a common soldier and looked half-starved, not to mention with this much gold he ought to be jangling loudly as he walked and yet his pockets didn't even bulge. Something wasn't right.

"Beautiful marksman- er, markswomanship, your highness!" Toris declared, handing over yet more gold.

"I know," said Natalya, deigning to give him an approving nod, which made him smile and blush; this time she noticed. "But my brother the Emperor will be wondering where I am. I should be leaving. Would you perhaps be here tomorrow night at nine? I would like to speak more with you, and perhaps hold a rematch."

"W-why, certainly, princess!" Toris said, and knelt to kiss her offered hand.

~

The three stayed in the hostelry that night, stuffing the bemused barman's apron pocket with gold enough for three rooms and staying together in one; none of them wanted to be apart from the others, in case they needed someone to reassure them they hadn't merely dreamed their good fortune. Taking turns to use the cap and purse, each of the three comrades made trips to the tailor and equipped themselves well with real clothes, and Eduard finally bought the spectacles he needed, and that evening they sat in the bar-room and ate and drank and laughed. The capital city the hostelry lay in was so far from the borders they would never be recognised and punished for desertion, and they had all they could ever want. Feliks the barman was pleased too; business boomed as everyone in town came to see the three strangers and hear of how they'd arrived in rags and thrown a dragons' worth of gold around and made the frosty princess smile.

At nine sharp, Princess Natalya slammed open the front doors of the bar-room and strutted up to the comrades' table, blue ribbon in her hair and knives at her belt as before. She sat, and Toris introduced his friends, and he didn't notice how they shivered with nerves at the princess' glare. Natalya looked them over and snapped her fingers. "Barman! Wine for my new friends." She smiled, and Toris blushed and his friends briefly shivered harder.

When they finished, Natalya ordered more wine, and soon enough Eduard and Raivis stopped shivering. She had been nothing but kind to them, even if she was rather scary, and how could she possibly know they were deserters? No, it was much better to relax. They laughed and joked and coaxed smiles from her, and got more and more drunk until Raivis fell asleep across the table and Eduard, face flushed red, half-carried him up to their room, leaving Toris alone with the princess. She looked at his pink face and shaking hands, and ordered more wine.

"Princess, let me pay!" Toris said, and scattered handfuls of gold on the table.

"That reminds me," said Natalya thoughtfully, as if it was only just coming to mind. "You seem like a man who's had an interesting life. May I ask how it led you to such marvellous good fortune that you can enrich the whole town so?"

"Eh? Oh, the gold," Toris slurred, blinking at the table, and giggled. "You'll never believe me."

"Try me. I always love a good story."

In fits and starts interrupted by hiccups and more drinking, Toris spilled the whole story and showed off the purse to prove it, and Natalya helped him upstairs to bed.

~

Now, uninformed people will often say that princesses in fairy tales do nothing but sit in their towers and wait for princes to come to them. This is far from true. Princesses have battled trolls to save their sisters, talked their ways out of dragons' dens, and wrestled great warriors to win them as husbands. If a princess wants to go on a quest, she may. Even if she does not, magical items are, as the three soldiers had found out, not hard to come by if one is willing to show kindness. Princess Natalya, however, was spoiled very much by her brother and sister, the Emperor Ivan and the Princess Yekaterina, and had decided that if she wanted a magical item, someone else should do the work.

Spoiled she might have been, but nobody could say Natalya was not clever. The next day, she went to the royal seamstresses' workroom and found the rag bag, and sewed together a plain little purse that looked just like Toris', and rubbed it around on a dusty stone floor to make it look tattered enough, and filled it up with gold.

That night, she came again to the hostelry where the three soldiers were staying, and found Toris in the bar, and challenged him to another marksmanship contest. This time, though, she insisted on pausing between throws to buy drinks; he drank, and she carefully tipped her wine away, and Toris' throws got worse and worse. Finally, when his hands shook so much that he simply dropped the knife, failure and drunkenness made him burst into tears.

"Oh, don't cry!" Natalya said, and let him throw his arms around her.

"But I w-wanted to impress you, p-princess!" he wailed.

"It doesn't matter," she crooned in his ear. "You did very well. I think you just need to sleep." And as his sobs faded, she slipped the purse from his coat pocket and tucked the one she had made into its place, and then she led him back inside and hurried away.

The next morning, Toris stumbled down to breakfast with Eduard and Raivis, too hungover to eat. In between tankards of soothing cold water he paid for their breakfast and tipped Feliks heartily as usual, but when he shook the purse to give his friends some money to go shopping, nothing came out.

"What? The magic can't be gone so soon!" Toris peered closer at the purse. "Wait, this isn't mine at all! I've been robbed! Someone slipped me a fake!"

"What? Oh no!" Raivis wailed, clasping his hands to his mouth.

"Stay calm," said Eduard, taking Toris' hand. "Where did you last have it and who was with you? We'll find this thief!"

"I-I don't know," Toris said, trying to think through the headache from last night. "I know I had it when Natalya arrived, we were gambling and I paid for wine. We both got pretty drunk..."

Eduard and Raivis looked at each other, and Eduard spoke again. "Toris, when I came out to check on you last night, I saw her pouring her drink away. I think she was up to something."

"What? That's ridiculous!" Toris said, frowning. "She spills a drink and suddenly you're all suspicious? She's a princess, not a common thief! And she likes me."

"Did you tell her about the purse?" Raivis asked, picking up the fake and looking closely at it. "This is a pretty good copy. Why would a thief who was just passing by bother with a fake one?"

"Why would Natalya? She's the Emperor's sister, she already has all the gold she could want!"

The argument continued on and off all morning as the three futilely searched the bar, the courtyard, and their room for the purse. Finally Eduard angrily swept on the cloak and said "This is getting silly, there's an easy way to find out. I wish I was wherever Toris' magic purse is!"

Next thing he knew, he was in the throne room, right beside Princess Natalya, who had the purse in her hands and was presenting it to Princess Yekaterina and Emperor Ivan.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" shouted the emperor, rising from his throne and sweeping down the steps. "Guards!"

"Thief! Thief!" Natalya shrieked, hiding the purse and drawing her knife.

Eduard was a clever man, but not an especially brave one. When the guards came at him with swords drawn and the princess' eyes blazed with rage, he panicked, and he lost his power of speech, and so he could not speak his wish for safety. Instead, he spun on his heel and ran, guards and princess in hot pursuit.

Out through the great double doors he ran, down the long path and to the gates, and he saw more guards at the gates and swung around to a great tree by the wall before they could hear their comrades' cries of "Stop him!" Up the tree he climbed, and much to his joy one long branch did indeed hang close to the wall. Lightly he ran along it and jumped for the wall, and stopped, caught short by the cloak pulling tight around his neck; it was caught on another branch. He pulled, and his throat burned. The guards had arrived, and he knew perfectly well his life was worth far more than a cloak, even a magic one, so he slipped out of it and leapt for the wall, leaving the cloak in the tree.

Princess Natalya raised a hand as the guards headed for the gate. "Let him go. I think I've got what I want. Get someone to trim that tree branch."

~

The friends' row continued on, long and loud and angry, until Feliks chased them out of the hostelry with a broom for scaring off his customers, and then it continued on all afternoon as they wandered on, and by sunset they reached the edge of the woods.

"You know what? Fine," said Toris, his throat raw and his heart broken. "If you don't trust me, I don't want to be with you anymore. Either of you."

"That's it?" Raivis said, tears in his eyes. "'I'm not your friend anymore' like we're five? Over a girl?"

"Not just a girl, a princess!"

Eduard sighed. "Fine. If that's how you want it. Raivis, come on." He took Raivis' hand, and they turned and left, and only Raivis looked back. Toris angrily threw a stone into the woods at his side, and wandered off down the other path. For hours he wandered, too angry to think straight, until he was thoroughly lost. In the dark he sat down on a stone and wept for his lost friends, and for himself, until finally he was exhausted. He curled up beneath a tree, and shivered and cried himself to sleep.

At dawn, Toris awoke to something dropping on his head. He looked, and it was an apple. In fact the tree above him was laden with apples, and so were several trees of many types of fruit around it, though fruit trees were dreadfully out of place in a conifer forest and many of them were out of season or, like the long yellow ones Toris didn't recognise, shouldn't have been growing in the cold climate at all. Toris was curious, but his stomach gurgled, and he remembered he hadn't eaten all of yesterday, and he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and to worry about filling his own mouth. It was too bad the peasant boy who had become a soldier had never had a chance to learn his letters, or he would have noticed the sign on the apple tree read "Property of Vladimir Popescu, eat at your own risk".

After one apple, Toris noticed a pain in his head, but now his hunger had woken and he was too busy eating to care. Three apples into his meal, his head started to feel dreadfully heavy, but he thought it must be his imagination, and the apples really were delicious, so he ate some more. Halfway through the sixth, it occurred to him to worry, and he put his hand up, and screamed. Sprouting from his head were a pair of horns, twisted like a goat's and still growing. Soon they were as long and thick as his arm, and he could no longer lift his head; soon after that, he was flat on his back in the slushy wet grass, the horns growing and growing still, whispering against the grass and knocking through bushes.

Not far away, Eduard and Raivis, feeling guilty and afraid for their friend, were walking through the forest, calling his name. Raivis stepped off the path, and tripped as something hit his feet.

"Ow! What was that?" He looked down at the long black spiral, which grew another inch and stopped.

"It looks like a horn, but it can't be," said Eduard, kneeling to look. "Even a unicorn's wouldn't be this big."

Raivis trembled. "A d-dragon's would!"

"Help!" came a plaintive call from deep in the woods.

"That was Toris!" Eduard cried.

Raivis hoisted his musket onto his shoulder. "Dragon or no dragon, we got him into this, we must help him."

"You're right." Eduard drew his sword. "Charge!"

They did, following the horns to their source, and both tripped over Toris.

"Ow, you just stood on my face!"

"Ow! Toris? What the heck is going on?"

"I don't know! I just ate some apples!"

Raivis looked at his friend sprawled on the ground and giggled. "Sorry, sorry! I know, this is bad."

"Okay, if eating the apples made these grow, there must be some way of turning you back nearby. Like how nettles often grow near dock leaves. I'm sure we can find it."

"Don't you dare! What if it makes something worse happen?" Toris yelled.

Eduard sighed and looked around. "Good point. Okay, I think it's time to call for help. On three, everyone. One, two, three..."

All three joined in the cry of "Vladimir! Vladimir! We need help! Can you hear?"

Vladimir inexplicably stepped out from behind a slender sapling and immediately burst into laughter.

"I said we need help, not an audience!" Toris snapped.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just that these are my trees. I never thought I'd see you around here! Sorry about this. Wait here." Vladimir hurried off and returned with a fat juicy pear. "Here, this will fix it." Nervously, Toris ate the pear, and the horns fell off with a clunk.

"Oh, thank God!" he cried. "And thank you, Vladimir." He hugged his comrades, and said "I'm so sorry! I was awful to you and you still came to help. I didn't want to believe you, but I think I must."

"Believe them about what?" asked Vladimir. "And where's your cloak, Eduard?" The three explained the story, and Vladimir tapped his chin. "Hm. I have been thinking for a while the Emperor and his little sister need taking down a peg. He's a bully, she's selfish, and their older sister's given up controlling them."

"So why didn't you help before?" asked Eduard.

"Mages' code. Messing with the stability of an empire could cause far worse to happen than leaving it be. Only _wicked_ wixes are allowed to do it without mortal's requests and a good plan."

"Do we have a good plan?" asked Raivis.

Vladimir smiled, showing off his snaggle fang. "Well, you still have your cap, don't you?"

"I did think of dressing up like a palace servant, but even they aren't allowed to rummage around in the princess' belongings, are they?"

"True, but..." Eduard plucked an apple. "With these, I think I have an idea which will make sure the princess never pulls a trick like this again."

They huddled, and he spoke of his plan.

~

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"Friend! Just a poor boy with a gift for Princess Natalya!"

Raivis shivered beneath his simple cloth cap, which had turned his new finery to a farm boy's patched and muddy clothes. On his arm was a basket covered with a cloth, borrowed from Feliks, who had heartily approved of the game. The scar-faced guard took it from him and untucked the cover, revealing the fat and gleaming apples beneath it.

"For Princess Natalya, you say?"

"Yes, sir. She-she's so beautiful. Why, the sun can't match her beauty! And this year we had a wonderful crop in the orchard, and I thought these apples are so fine only the most beautiful and gracious princess in the world deserved them," Raivis said, flushing pink; really at having to praise the princess so profusely, but of course the guard didn't know that. He sighed and shuffled his feet, and hoped he looked suitably lovesick. The guard nodded and took the basket, and Raivis scurried off down the road, sincerely hoping the princess wouldn't give the apples to a food taster.

He was in luck, as it turned out. A princess who stole gold from a subject she knew needed it was also selfish enough to keep all the apples for herself and prideful enough to assume she was indestructible.

~

"Is that ready?"

"Almost." Toris finished mashing up the mixture of magical apples and normal pears, and stirred in some herbs to disguise the taste. "Here we go. Please don't mix the jars up." He scooped it into an empty jar and tied on a red cloth cover, and tucked it into the black bag beside a blue-wrapped jar full of a mixture of normal apples and magical pears.

Feliks giggled and put away his sewing kit, with which he'd made the bag. "Oh, this is gonna be so awesome. Wish I could be there. Okay, Raivis, give him the cap."

Raivis popped the cap onto Eduard's head, and it became a floppy black cap, and his clothes were covered by a long black coat. With his glasses and the bag, and a little book filled with scrawly nonsense which Feliks assured them would pass for bad handwriting, he looked just like how everyone imagined a doctor, which was exactly what the Emperor's proclamation in the town square had demanded that morning. Eduard took the bag and headed down the street, practicing walking with his nose in the air as he imagined learned men to do.

At the palace gates, he introduced himself as Doctor Krabi and was led in by the guards, to find the princess lying on her back in bed, her feet at the headboard and the horns hanging off the foot, supported by a table. Eduard adjusted his glasses and walked around the bed, clicking his tongue, and pausing to scribble in his notebook. With the help of the magical cap, he was not recognised at all. The Emperor, far less imposing in his worry, stood beside him, and the older princess Yekaterina hovered nearby, wringing her hands.

"What is it, doctor?"

"I know damn well what it is!" Natalya snapped. "That horrid little boy with his apples must have poisoned me!"

"My dear highness," said Eduard, doing his very best not to laugh, "whoever heard of apples causing horns? No, no, this is a most rare condition, but fortunately I have a cure. Just two spoonfuls of this..." With a flourish, he produced the red-wrapped jar. "And your worries should be over." With bad grace, the princess took two big spoonfuls of the mush, and wrinkled her nose, and Eduard breezed out with his nose held high.

As he left, he heard Princess Yekaterina say "Do you feel any better? Can you sit up?"

"No! These things are heavy. Now I know how it feels to be you!"

Princess Yekaterina, a lady of ample figure, ran from the room in tears, her corset creaking noisily with every step. Eduard watched the tips of the horns grow some more, ever so slowly.

~

The next day Eduard came back, and the horns were sticking into the wall; he gave her some mixture from the blue jar, and the day after that the horns had flaked and chipped and the tops had broken off. He clicked his tongue again, and gave her some more red jar mixture, and some more the next day, along with various other potions and powders made of herbs and coloured water to make sure the royal family didn't become suspicious. By the end of the week, the princess had to lie beside the dais in the throne room, with her horns blocking one of the great double doors from opening more than halfway. Eduard made a great show of tutting and making notes, and Natalya's rage had turned to fear.

"Yes, I think that must be it," Eduard murmured to himself sadly, tucking the book back into his bag, and turned to bow. "I'm very sorry, your majesty, your highnesses. I have terrible news."

"Is she going to die?" Yekaterina sobbed, dabbing at her eyes. "The weight of those dreadful things could break her neck or suffocate her if they grow any more!"

"There is a risk, but that's not the problem, your imperial highness," said Eduard. "I'm afraid I've seen this condition before. My medicine is _almost_ infallible, but there are times it will simply not work. I'm very sorry to have to break this news, but the only time this particular cure will not work is if the sufferer happens to be..." and he spun on his heel and pointed to Natalya, "a _thief!"_

Yekaterina gasped and pressed the handkerchief to her mouth, and Emperor Ivan's concerned expression was replaced by a frosty glare; his teeth ground together with a terrible "kolkolkol" sound. Eduard trembled in his shoes, but continued.

"I did say it was terrible news, your imperial majesty. The persistence of this disease is a punishment from God upon a thief! I can do no more until any stolen goods are returned with a full and sincere apology."

Ivan drew himself up, an icy wind seeming to pick up around him. "This is ridiculous! My sister's an imperial princess! Why would she steal? Guards! Take this man to the dungeons and-"

"No!" Natalya interrupted. "No, Ivan. He's right. I am a thief." She closed her eyes, and tears squeezed between her silvery lashes. "I wanted magical things to impress you, and I stole the gold-making purse, and I kept the travelling cloak from the man who tried to get it back. I didn't earn them, I stole them. I'm sorry, brother. I lied to you."

"Oh, Natalya!" Ivan knelt beside her and clasped her hand. "My dear sister! Why would you do that? There's no need to impress me with magic! I love you very much and I always will even if you never find treasure."

Yekaterina knelt too, and dabbed Natalya's eyes. "Me too. Tell me, where are these things? I'll fetch them now. Doctor, does the apology have to be public? I don't think the scandal would be good for the empire."

"No, no, your imperial highnesses and majesty, it merely has to be gracious. And I must warn you all, should her imperial highness ever steal again, the horns will come back twice as big as they are now."

"I never will, I promise!" Natalya cried, and Eduard gave her two spoons of pear mixture and left.

The very next day the messenger rode out again, and Toris and Eduard and Raivis were summoned before the emperor and his sisters, and Natalya made her full apology from behind a curtain so her cracking horns would not be seen, but of course they knew, and performed very well without a single smile. Yekaterina handed back the stolen purse and cloak, and later that day Doctor Krabi arrived for one last time with a full jar of pear mixture and instructions to eat it all. As soon as she finished, her horns fell off right at the base with a crack.

Before the imperial family could become suspicious, Toris and Eduard and Raivis hugged Feliks and thanked him for everything he had done, and told him the story and watched him fall about laughing one more time, and purchased three fine horses and rode away who-knows-where to more adventures.

The horns were stored in the royal treasury, used as a rack on which the royal family hung all the magical items they fairly earned in their adventuring, and many years later they would bring the imperial children to see them and explain why they must never ever take things that were not theirs, nor accept gifts from strangers. Natalya became much less rude and spoiled, and eventually learned to see the funny side and would smile just a tiny bit when Yekaterina told the story, but she never ate apples again.


	4. The Red Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From HC Andersen's "The Red Shoes", except with a more deserving lead character and a less pointless ending. Protanopia is correlated with albinism, and indeed means the sufferer can't see red. Green also becomes yellow, but that's not relevant here. "Father Mario" = Vatican. I know not all the characters are of the same denomination in canon, but you're already suspending disbelief for magic.

"You know, the senate became suspicious of Caesar partly because he started wearing red boots," said Ludwig. "They were considered to be reserved for kings, and you know what the senate thought of kings."

"Sounds like the right idea," said Gilbert, polishing his red boots with his sleeve. "Come on, Lutz, nobody's going to knife me over them."

"Whereas if you were a woman, they'd mark you as a whore."

"Good thing I'm not a woman, then."

"Yes, a mercy for both of us, I think. I still don't think it's appropriate to wear them in church, brother. Even Francis tones down the flash in the house of God."

"You only say that because all your clothes are boring."

"Everyone will stare."

"Good!"

~

On the edge of a city near a forest, on the street by the church, lived two brothers. The younger was named Ludwig, and he was a stern and diligent man with a kind heart. The older was named Gilbert, and he loved his brother dearly but loved himself far more. Ludwig worked hard in an office in the city, while Gilbert preferred to live off the sizable inheritance their father had left. Ludwig had attractive but ordinary blond hair and blue eyes, while Gilbert's looks were far more unusual, and really that was what caused the problem.

Gilbert's hair was glossy white and his eyes were ruby red, but as often happens in such cases, his sight was weak. In summer when the gardens bloomed, or at the tailor's shop among the bolts of cloth, he saw yellows and blues quite clearly, but reds and oranges and pinks turned to murky browns and blacks and greys. When he looked in the mirror, the eyes everyone told him were red looked black, and he wondered what this "red" was and how it was so different from what he saw. He squinted to read, as he was far too proud to wear glasses, and he stayed in or carried a shady umbrella on very bright days, and usually there was no problem at all.

However, one day his brother Ludwig took Gilbert's best shoes from the closet and said "Gilbert, look at these! What do you do, play football in them?" Sure enough, they were battered and scuffed and the sole was splitting on the left one. "Please go and buy yourself some nice black shoes."

Gilbert went to the shoemaker, and looked at the boring, plain formal shoes for a while, and then almost dropped his shopping basket as he saw the most glorious boots he'd ever seen. They had soft leather uppers which reached his calves, with pointed toes and gleaming caps, and good solid soles, with heels which lifted him just enough to look his tall younger brother in the eye. Certainly they were fancier and pricier than Ludwig had probably meant, but who cared? They were perfect for a man as awesome as Gilbert, and as luck would have it they fit. He bought them, and threw his old shoes in the gutter as he left in his new ones, intending never to wear any other less awesome shoes again.

Much to his surprise, when he got home and called "The awesome me completed the awesome mission! Aren't they great?" Ludwig gasped at the new boots.

"Gilbert, I said black shoes!"

"What? These are black!"

"Your eye condition, Gilbert! Didn't you think to ask for help? Those are _red!"_

Gilbert squinted. "Really?"

"You can't wear those! Nobody else in town wears red formal shoes."

Gilbert smiled wickedly, and said "Perfect."

~

Gilbert slammed open the doors of the church, and shouted "The awesome Gilbert is _here,_ people! Look and be amazed!"

Father Mario Vargas' jaw dropped, and his three nephews in the front pew gasped, and Lovino the eldest covered the eyes of Sebastian the youngest. Gilbert marched up the aisle, heels clicking, his white skin and black suit perfectly setting off his gleaming red boots, and he watched as the faces of the congregation flushed matching red - or, in his eyes, black.

"Mr Beilschmidt!" said Father Mario sternly. "This is a place of worship, you are not on a stage. In future, please enter quietly or don't bother coming."

Gilbert snorted. Stop coming to any place where people could see how awesome he was? No way. He sat in the pew beside the lovely Miss Erzsebet Hedevary, and spent the whole sermon looking down at his awesome new boots.

~

Gilbert wore his new boots all that week, and made sure to be seen out and about as much as he could so everyone knew why he was so much more awesome now. Francis the tailor admired them very much, and sold him a cravat he assured Gilbert matched the boots very well, though one shade of black looked pretty much the same as another to Gilbert. Antonio the woodcutter said they were as red and shiny as the tomatoes he grew in his garden, and offered Gilbert some of the summery-smelling black fruits. Erzsebet blushed grey when she saw him coming, and darted off into a side street; surely because she simply couldn't handle that much concentrated awesome, Gilbert thought.

The next Sunday, he arrived in church again, boots and cravat prominently worn. Father Mario gave him a sour look but said nothing, and there were a couple of whispers about disrespect from the congregation, but no gasps and staring. _Well,_ thought Gilbert, we'll have to fix that. He let Ludwig go on ahead and sit next to Feliciano Vargas, and then sat down two rows behind. Every time there was a lull in the sermon he would cough, or fake a sneeze, or lightly kick the pew in front, and at least one person would look at him. He spent the afternoon polishing and checking his boots, in case he'd scuffed them, and puzzling over the strange man with the large eyebrows who'd stood at the church door and murmured to him "My, what pretty dancing shoes."

The next week, everyone pointedly ignored him however loudly he coughed, and Gilbert decided this would not do. He sat right next to the aisle and stuck his feet out into it, so his boots were clearly visible, and when that didn't work he swung his feet up and rested them on the back of the pew in front, accidentally kicking Francis in the head. Francis' yell interrupted the sermon, and Father Mario paused it to take hold of Gilbert's cravat and lead him outside, with a hiss of "And don't come back until you can show some proper respect!" Ludwig found him at home after the sermon, and gave him a very angry look, then sighed and walked off. Gilbert heard him sneeze as he went, and thought he must have picked up a cold.

Weeks passed, and what Gilbert and Ludwig had thought was a cold grew into what they thought was flu, and then worse. Gilbert was concerned for his brother, of course; he was not heartless. He tucked his brother up in bed and brought him warm blankets and soup, and later made daily trips to the apothecary. But in between doing so, he would take time to polish his favourite boots, and every time he walked to the apothecary he would dawdle and strut about, and every time he met someone he knew he would stop to chat and would point his toes to show off how the boots so flatteringly showed off his calves. By now everyone in town had long since seen the boots and were laughing at his posturing, but he was too proud to notice. When Ludwig seemed to improve, Gilbert's pride only grew; he bragged at how it was all down to his fine nursing, and on the way to pick up fresh medicine he would sometimes kick up his heels and twirl around, just because he could. This did not last long, however, as Ludwig's illness grew worse again.

One day, Gilbert found a poster for the autumn festival in the city centre. The marketplace would be opened up and all the stalls moved into the streets to make room for a dancefloor. "A _dance,_ brother!" he cried, waving the paper. "I have to go! How can I deny the whole city the presence of the awesome me?"

"By realising-" Ludwig paused to cough, "-by realising that I need the awesome you as well." Gilbert paused. Ludwig didn't like to admit weakness. If he said he needed help it must be bad. "I need you here. What if something happens?"

"Don't say that, little brother!" Gilbert sat beside Ludwig and held his hand. "You're gonna kick this disease's ass and I _will_ be here to see you do it!"

"Thank you," said Ludwig, and squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry about the dance."

"Eh. There'll always be next year." Ludwig's eyes closed in sleep, and Gilbert pouted. "Stupid illness, why'd it have to bother my awesome little brother? And why right _now?"_

On the night of the dance, a rainstorm blew up, but Gilbert knew Erzsebet and Antonio had arranged the building of a canopy like a circus tent over the marketplace, strung from the nearby buildings. It grew dark early, and the sickroom smelled awful and he couldn't open the window for fear the cold wind would make Ludwig worse. Ludwig was already having a rough day, feverish and coughing again, tossing and turning in his sleep. Gilbert stayed at his side, pacing a hole in the carpet, until in the early evening Ludwig settled into a more restful sleep.

Gilbert thought about his options. Ludwig could take a turn for the worse again at any moment. Even if he didn't, he might wake up and need Gilbert to bring him food or water or something. But he seemed to have exhausted himself in his restlessness. He'd probably sleep through the night now. And Gilbert had been working hard to nurse him for a very long time...

Gilbert looked at the clock. Eight. Plenty of time to have let the party get started so he could make a big flashy entrance. He knew a short cut. He could just run across and party for an hour. Nothing would happen in an hour.

He pulled on his beloved boots and his raincoat, and strutted out the door.

~

"Hello, Gilbert!" said Feliciano, waving a mug of hot mulled wine and sloshing black on his hand. "Ouch! Oops. Hey, is Ludwig any better?"

"Oh, much better, thanks!" said Gilbert, flapping a hand. He'd just finished joining in a lively polka, and his face felt hot. "Still in bed though. He said I've been working so hard for him, I should take a break. No, no, I said, I can't leave you, and he said go on, he'd be fine for an hour..."

"An hour?" Feli frowned. "When did you get here?"

"About eight-fifteen, why?"

Feli's eyes, normally creased into a squint by the breadth of his smile, widened in fear. "Gilbert, it's already ten!"

"It is?!" As Gilbert spoke, the great clock tower struck ten.

"I think you should leave! What if your brother needs you?"

"You're right, I should," said Gilbert, but as Feli disappeared into the crowd again, the band struck up a sweet waltz and he saw Erzsebet was without a partner, and he said to himself "One more dance can't hurt."

One dance became two, and then he was thirsty, and one mug of wine became three, and then he was hungry, and then the chestnuts he bought burnt his fingers and he waited for them to cool before he ate, and then he'd forgotten about Feli's warning and he danced again, and as the clock's hands were nearing midnight the stranger with the eyebrows slunk past him in the crowd and he heard the murmur of "My, what pretty dancing shoes." Gilbert felt a chill of fear, and mistook it for cold, and had another mug of wine, and then he danced again as the clock's hands drew ever nearer to the twelve.

The last notes of the merry jig rose up and dropped exactly as the clock struck twelve, and Gilbert spun around and accidentally flung his partner, little Elise, right into the chestnut stall with a crash. Screams and yells filled the marketplace as hot coals flew over the flagstones; Elise leapt up with a shriek, mercifully unhurt, as the coals rolled over her boots, and Gilbert hopskipped over the fire with grace that surprised him. He was even more surprised when he was well clear of the fire and was still hopskipping, and he tried to stop, but could not.

"Idiot!" shouted Vash. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Are you still dancing? You could have killed my sister! Do you think now is the time to dance- and you're still doing it! Stop!"

"I'm trying!" Gilbert yelled. Ivan and Mathias and Berwald and Abel, the biggest men in town, ran forward to catch his arms, but his feet flew up and kicked their hands away, and he danced on, away down the dark and rainy street.

"What an awful man," said Elise, her pretty face wrinkled with a frown. "Is he truly so desperate to show off?"

Down the dark streets Gilbert danced, confused and scared and trying his very hardest to stop, to no avail. His arms were still his own, and he grabbed onto lamp-posts and signposts and anything he could find, and yet his legs pulled him away... "It's the shoes!" he cried, hoping someone would hear, but those who were not at the dance were all asleep. He reached down and clawed at the boots, but he couldn't stop, and he couldn't catch his feet to take the boots off. He flung himself down on the ground with his feet in the air, but before he could do anything more the boots pulled him into an acrobatic flip and landed on the ground again.

The rainstorm blew harder, and hour after hour the boots kept on dancing, up and down every road in the city, until the sun began to rise. Gilbert was a strong man, but no man can dance from midnight till dawn and feel no effects, even with magical boots doing all the work, and his back hurt and his legs hurt and his feet swelled and blistered in the deadly boots, and still he danced. With the sun rose the workers, the market stall owners putting their stalls back in the marketplace and filling them up with merchandise and the fisherfolk preparing their boats, and when Gilbert passed them he pleaded for help, and not one did. They looked away, or snorted, or sighed, and in the chatter of the crowds he heard over and over "Ignore him," "Ignore him," "Ignore him, it's just Gilbert messing around again. Stop paying attention and he'll go away."

Gilbert had not wept for his brother's illness, from pride and fear that thinking the worst would make it happen. He wept now, hands over his face so the townsfolk he was forced to pass would not see it, for even now he was a proud man, though growing less so with every step. He felt wetness in the boots and knew his feet were bleeding, and his heart and lungs felt close to giving out, and the closest thing he got to rest was when the boots pulled him into a slow partnerless waltz up the street to the churchyard.

"No, no, I don't want to go in there!" he cried, as if the boots had ears or would care if they did, but what he wanted had not mattered all night, and into the churchyard he went. Even in the day, an empty churchyard is an eerie place. No, not quite empty, but the stranger with the eyebrows only made it worse. He sat upon the steps as Gilbert danced up the path, and Gilbert saw his glimmering white wings for the first time, and the stranger nodded and said "My, what pretty dancing shoes."

"You did this?!" Gilbert snarled, even as the shoes pulled him into a spin around the yard, stepping neatly around and over the graves.

"You brought it on yourself, boy," said the angel sternly. "There's a great number of people in this town who've been wishing ill on you for your vanity, and you brought it to its tipping point when you left your brother last night. If dancing is more important than the one who loves you most in all the world, then by all means dance on."

"Cursing people isn't very angelic of you!"

The angel smirked and raised one enormous eyebrow. "Wow, you really weren't paying attention in church. There's a reason we usually greet mortals with 'fear not'."

Gilbert clung onto a stone angel and his feet skidded around under him. "Yeah, yeah, so I gotta say I'm sorry, right?"

"No. You have to _be_ sorry. And you'd better come up with something fast, I think I miscalculated how much a human body can withstand. At this rate if your heart holds out you'll die of thirst quite soon."

Gilbert used some words most inappropriate for the house of God and the shoes dragged him out and down the street to the dark forest, the angel shaking his head in disapproval behind him.

Deep in the woods, the shadows grew, and Gilbert's clothes tore on brambles and bark, and the boots danced on until he came to a log cabin in a clearing, surrounded by rows of tall plants with just a few late-ripening black fruits dangling from them. At last! Perhaps someone would help him. With a tremendous effort, Gilbert pointed the shoes towards the cabin, and danced up the path and around the building, lifting his exhausted arms to tap on the door and the window shutters, and filling his bursting lungs to shout "Help!"

Antonio the woodsman, yawning and rumpled from sleep after the party last night, came to the door and gaped as Gilbert whirled around his little garden and leapt over a row of tomato vines. "What the-?"

"It's the shoes!" Gilbert cried. "I can't stop them! Help!" Antonio ran forwards and tried to catch Gilbert's feet, but always when he caught one the other would sweep up and kick the other free, and they danced faster and faster until he couldn't even manage that. "It's magic, Toni, I don't think you can just pull them off! Can't you do anything else?"

"Well, I can think of one thing, but you're not going to like it!" Antonio said.

"Anything! Just make them stop before they dance me off a cliff or something!"

Antonio ran back into the cabin, and there was the sound of a striking tinderbox, and then of bellows, and still Gilbert danced, trying with all his remaining strength to at least stay near the cabin. By now his sight was blurred and his eyes were falling closed, though he had no hope of sleeping, and so he only caught a glint from the corner of his eye; before he even realised it was the shine of hot metal, searing agony tore through his leg, and he fainted.

When he awoke that evening in Antonio's bed, the woodsman himself sleeping in the chair, he lay for a while in blissful relief at being still and the horrible boots being gone. But then the pain seeped back into his legs; not the pain of blisters and bruises and torn skin, but something deeper and hotter. He looked, and everything below his knees was gone. Antonio had heated up his woodcutting axe in the fire to clean and cauterise, and cut Gilbert's legs off and the boots with them.

Gilbert stared in shock. His feet had been in such pain by then that he was almost glad they were gone. Before he could really feel anything more about it, he heard the soft tolling of the church bells far off in the city. Funeral bells.

Gilbert remembered his brother, and forgot all about his own pain for the first time in his life, and pulled the blanket over his head and wept.

~

Antonio made a pair of crutches and a pair of peg-legs, and day by day Gilbert recovered his strength and learned to walk with them. Antonio was a friendly fellow who had never wished ill on Gilbert, had in fact barely noticed his troublemaking, much to Gilbert's relief. To repay Antonio's kindness, he would cook and clean and tend the garden while Antonio worked, and in the evening they would sit by the fire and talk, and Gilbert learned what it was like to have a real friend. All his clothes were still back at his home, and he was not strong enough to make the trip nor ready to face the home in which his brother had died thanks to him, so he wore Antonio's plain and sturdy work clothes, and he didn't care a bit.

Some weeks of thinking and mourning later, Gilbert decided it was time to go back to the church. His own mortality hung over him after his brush with dancing to death, and now he'd spoken to an angel the church seemed far more vital to him. Hopefully Father Mario would accept his apology, and perhaps he could make peace with Ludwig. He took up his crutches and followed Antonio to the church, but Antonio was not an observant man and didn't notice Gilbert falling behind. _Never mind,_ Gilbert thought. _I'm doing pretty well. I can make it there alone._

He arrived at the church when everyone else was already in, and the doors were closed. No matter. This time he'd enter quietly and show everyone he'd learned some respect and humility. He started up the path, and stopped when he saw something black in the grass. A cat? Probably. He continued on, and heard tapping on the stones, rap-a-tap-tap, like... dancing shoes.

In horror, he stopped, and his fears were confirmed. Between his peg-legs, two black blurs slid, and tapped their way up to the church door. The dreadful boots, now as scuffed and battered as the old black shoes Ludwig had thrown out when it all began, were still dancing, weeks after the curse began, with his severed feet still inside, and by now the smell of rotting flesh within them was so foul he feared the congregation would come out to find the source. Gilbert gagged and almost fell over in his haste to leave, as the terrible shoes tapped away on the steps of the church. Much to his relief, they did not follow him on his way back to the woods, and when Antonio came home, he hadn't even noticed Gilbert hadn't entered the church, and when Gilbert asked if the boots had still been there, he said "What boots? Oh, yes, I know which ones you _mean,_ but I didn't see any. Sorry."

The next week, Gilbert decided to try again. Why should he let some stupid old boots come between him and what he wanted to do? So he set off with Antonio again, and once again fell behind. Once again he entered the churchyard alone; once again the shoes appeared from the grass and performed their terrifying dance on the steps; once again, Gilbert fled. At home, Antonio said "I'm sure it's all in your head, Gilbert," and Gilbert pointed to his stumps and snapped "All in my head? You _saw_ those damn shoes! Why couldn't they be following me?" Antonio had no answer.

The week after that, Gilbert stayed at home. Antonio looked back sadly, but Gilbert stood firm; he was not going to waste a difficult journey with his wooden legs again. Antonio left, and Gilbert knelt uncomfortably on his wooden legs to pray alone; if he couldn't make it into church, maybe the angel would hear him here.

"Okay, angel. If you're listening, I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused. Now what do I do? Toni's been great, but he didn't hate me. What do I do about everyone else? Will they even listen?"

He stayed kneeling, and he thought, and he made his choice. He pulled himself up and picked up his crutches, and limped to the church with all haste.

Once more, the dreaded shoes danced on the steps before him, and Gilbert summoned up the last shreds of his pride and shouted at them "Why am I running from you? You're a pair of lumps of leather and you're not even shiny anymore. You weren't worth my brother's life, and you're certainly not worth my fear!" He raised one crutch, and with a mighty blow he swept the shoes off the step, and hobbled in through the doors.

Once again, he entered with a clatter, and everyone turned to look and gasp, and this time Father Mario looked at him in fright rather than anger, as if he'd seen a ghost. Gilbert raised a hand, and said "I'm sorry to interrupt. These are hard to walk quietly with." Carefully, he sat down in the back pew, and Father Mario looked on in surprise, and when he was sure Gilbert would make no more noise he continued his sermon on the virtue of humility, and Gilbert listened to every word.

"Humility is not shame or hatred of the self. It is merely understanding that others are just as important as oneself. It is acknowledging one's own shortcomings, neither punishing oneself for them nor wallowing in them, and trying one's best to overcome them. It is giving things their true value and the respect they deserve."

 _Yes,_ thought Gilbert. _I think I can learn to do that._

The sermon finished, and Father Mario said "Go in peace," and everyone stood, and Gilbert raised his hand and for the first time in his life said "Excuse me, please." Everyone paused. "May I say a few words before everyone leaves?" Father Mario nodded, and Gilbert made his slow way up the aisle to the pulpit.

"Everyone, I would like to talk about how I've behaved," he said. "I'm sorry I made such a spectacle of myself so often, and I'm sorry for hurting you, Miss Elise. I've learned my lesson, and from now on, I'm going to do all I can to be as awesome as I used to claim I was."

A blond-haired man in blue stood up in the front row, and said "Gilbert?"

Gilbert squinted his weak and teary eyes. "Ludwig? _Ludwig!"_ In his hurry he forgot his crutches and tumbled towards the floor, and Ludwig ran forward to catch him, and pulled him into a tight hug. "Little brother, you're alive! I thought you died!"

"I thought you didn't want to see me! You never came home from the fair and I've been too busy recovering to see anyone, so nobody could tell me differently. Feli Vargas came over the night of the fair, he's been nursing me since then," said Ludwig. "He even paid for the window he broke getting in."

Gilbert laughed aloud and cried on his brother's shoulder, and saw a blurry figure walking up the aisle, and heard the rap-tap-tapping of the dreaded shoes. He tried to pull away and run, but the angel put a hand on his shoulder and said "Well done. Now hold still for just a moment."

The boots danced up to him, and kicked away his peg-legs; Ludwig held him so he didn't fall. The terrible smell was gone; all that was left in the boots were bones. The bones pressed up to the stumps of his knees, and the flesh started to grow back over them, and the boots pulled away leaving only his healthy legs in their place. Gilbert stood on his own feet under his own power again, and laughed and laughed, and the whole church erupted in applause.

"A miracle, a miracle!" cried Father Mario, and his nephews wept for joy.

"One more miracle to go on with," said the angel. "It's not on the scale of Job, but we are the side of good, and when someone has to learn a lesson from us we have to leave them better off than they started. Just don't ever forget how you earned it, or I'll have to come back."

"Oh, I don't think I ever could forget," said Gilbert with a scowl, and the angel laughed, and passed a hand over Gilbert's eyes. Gilbert looked up and blinked, and none of the audience could see any difference.

Gilbert stared around at the wine on the altar, and the stained glass windows, and the dirty bloody boots sitting off in the corner. Tears flowed freely from his eyes, and he laughed once more, and he said "Oh, I see! _That's_ red!"

Gilbert hugged his brother and Feli who'd saved him and his own dear friend Antonio a dozen times, and everyone in the church crowded round to shake his hand. In the commotion, the angel slipped away, and so did the battered old red boots.

Gilbert was as good as his word, and while he was still more or less the same noisy fun-lover, he never walked out on his responsibilities again. He got a job of his own, and every week he went to the church and listened quietly to the sermon and lit a candle to show the angel he hadn't forgotten. He stayed friends with Antonio, and got to know Feli and his brothers better from spending so much time at church, and he befriended Francis the tailor, who taught him it was fine to like fancy clothes but there was a time and a place to show off. And so he and his brother and his friends lived happily ever after.

As for the boots, Gilbert had thought of hanging them up at his house to remind himself never to do something that stupid again, but when he looked for them, they were gone. Nobody ever found where they went, and it was said throughout the city that whenever someone was particularly prideful, or rude, or irresponsible, they would wake in the night to hear a quiet little rap-a-tap-tapping on their back steps. Of course it was just a rumour, but nobody took chances, and the city became famous for having the most polite and hardworking people for miles around, all because of a pair of fancy red boots.


	5. Kireite the Kitchen Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the story of Sir Gareth in Le Morte d'Arthur. I know there is romance in the original but I honestly like it better without. It still works fine.

Many, many years ago, when brave knights battled mighty dragons and the Fair Folk were not yet hidden away, young Arthur Kirkland pulled the blessed sword from the stone and became High King of all England. From his court at the castle Camelot he sent out messages by magic all around the world, calling for the bravest and strongest and most chivalrous knights to come and prove themselves, and they arrived by flying carpet or tame dragon or wishing ring or the bewitched passageways between places, and the very best of all of them were chosen to sit at the Round Table alongside the king.

One burning summer, when the land had been peaceful for an unusually long time (mere months, for in those days monsters and wicked mages were numerous), King Arthur and his knights came from chapel to table; he declared the midsummer feast, and stood by the window, sighing.

"Won't you come to join us, sire?" said his dear friend Sir Kiku.

"You know my vow," said Arthur. "I'll touch no food this day, or any feast day, until I'm told of some new challenge or adventure. We must keep in practice, you know."

"But it's been so quiet lately," said Kiku, frowning. "Every past year we've had adventures aplenty, but this year..."

"I thank you for your concern, but that's my problem." And Arthur sat upon the windowsill and waited, and waited. Sir Alfred looked guiltily at him and put aside some meat and fruit for his king.

He needn't have worried, as soon enough a guard knocked at the doors and declared "My lords, you have a visitor." Upon Arthur's nod, the visitor was brought in; a tall and skinny youth, with a merry smile and one long curl of hair, and hands and feet it seemed he had not yet grown into. His features, his accent, and his clothing marked him as from the East, specifically a land not far from Sir Kiku's; he wore the clothes of a commoner, though his hands were soft and his nails clean.

The boy knelt, and said "Forgive me for interrupting, my lords and your majesty. I come to beg a wish from you."

"If it is within my power, good sir," said King Arthur. "It is a day of celebration, after all."

"I have chosen a trial for myself, your majesty. I wish for your household to accept my service of whatever form you think best for one year, and if I have served well by this day next year, grant me two more wishes. Small ones, I promise, sire," he said, looking up with a twinkle in his eye.

"Ah, a challenge!" said Arthur, and sat in his place at table, for now he could eat. "May I ask who it is I must allow to serve me?"

"I asked to buy my wishes with service, not my name, sire."

"Ha! A mystery as well, then! Very good!" Arthur started cutting up his meat. "Yes, you may serve my household for one year, young squire."

"Squire?" said the southern Prince, Lovino of the sharp tongue, sneering, too tipsy by now to speak civilly. "A squire would ask for horse and weapons! And 'service of whatever form you think best'? He's no squire, he's a peasant looking for a cushy job!"

Sir Kiku looked the nameless supplicant over with disdain and said "I think Lovino is right, sire. Look at the boy, he's thin as a rake and those hands have probably never held a sword. He's no fighter. Put Sir _Kireite_ to work in the kitchen, if he wants work so badly." He looked at the boy's hands and said "They won't be so for long."

"Lovino! Kiku! That's not a manner befitting a courteous knight," Arthur said sharply.

"No, no," said the boy, nodding, and smiling as broadly as ever. "If a kitchen boy is what you need, that's what I can be, your majesty."

And so that is what he became. Kireite (Kiku's joke stuck when he explained what the word meant) proved as hardworking as he was cheerful, whistling as he turned the spits and scrubbed the pots and stoked the fires and swept the floors until his "pretty hands" turned black and rough. Many a day Sir Kiku, who prided himself on rising earliest in the castle, even before the servants, would find Kireite already up and singing along with the dawn birds; he grew to loathe the sight of the boy, and would turn up his nose or make sharp remarks to him. Kireite never responded with anything but smiles. Sir Alfred, Arthur's favoured knight, was kind to him, but the boy said little of his life however Alfred pushed, so Alfred was uneasy calling him a friend. The other kitchen boys mocked him at first, but he challenged them to box, and beat all of them so soundly they said nothing more to him. He slept on the rushes with the dogs, and ate cooking scraps and untouched food from the knights' tables, which in a castle of that size were plentiful enough. Occasionally, he would slip out to watch a joust, and Alfred would see him and wink; those evenings, when all the work was finished, Alfred would meet him in the training yard and teach him how to use a sword and spear. With hard work Kireite turned from skinny to wiry and finished growing when he was taller than many of the knights, and before they knew it midsummer arrived again.

Once more, Arthur declared the feast begun and would not eat, for no news of adventures had come to him yet. He watched the serving boys hopefully; Kireite was sure to announce his true quest and make his wishes today. But the boy stayed silent.

An hour passed, and still no word came from Kireite, but just as had happened last year, a visitor was suddenly announced. This one was a lady knight in tabard of indigo matching her eyes, pale of hair and fierce of gaze, and she knelt and said "My Lord King, I, the Lady Knight Sir Natalya, most humbly seek assistance." She didn't sound most humble at all, but Arthur bade her continue.

"My lords, my sister is imprisoned by the wicked Red Knight, a monster with the strength of seven men! I fought valiantly against him, but in vain. I require assistance." Her voice trembled just a little. "Please, my lords. I was already questing for my lost brother when she was taken. I can't lose both of them at once."

"And you shan't, brave knight," said Arthur. "You heard her, men, who shall take this quest?"

Kireite sprang forward, raised one cinder-burned hand, and cried "I shall!" and the room fell silent. He dropped to one knee. "I beg pardon, your majesty, but today is the day you swore you would grant my two wishes. Have I earned them?"

"Those and more, you've been excellent," said Arthur, stunned.

"Then my first wish is to take this quest! Please, sire. It is said a knight of the Round Table never goes back on his word...?" Kireite trailed off suggestively, and Arthur sighed.

"Nor does a knight of the Round Table use a man's words against him. It's rude. Very well, but I insist you do not go alone."

"You can borrow my horse," said Alfred helpfully.

"Ah, no, sir, I can't; you may need it. My second wish is for Sir Alfred to be my escort until he judges I have earned my knighthood, and no further. He's always been kind to me and I've seen that you trust him more than any other, your majesty."

Alfred nodded happily and Arthur smiled with relief. Alfred could fulfil this quest, and the boy could have his adventure. "Very well, then. Set out as soon as-"

 _"What?"_ Sir Natalya stood up, eyes ablaze. She pointed at Kireite and shouted "The finest knights in all the world and you send your kitchen boy? Then keep your help, I'll have none of that!" She spun on her heel and stamped out of the hall, back to her horse. Kireite ran out behind her, his good cheer undamaged, heading to the stables, and both Alfred and Kiku hurried after him.

~

"Stop following me, kitchen brat!" Sir Natalya spurred her horse into a canter, then a gallop as Kireite's caught her up. He spurred his on likewise, but pulled it up and turned at a shout from behind him.

"Boy!" came Sir Kiku's call. "Leave the good knight alone. She said she doesn't want your help. Leave this to a real warrior. Put that poor stolen horse back in the stable and get back to your pots!"

"Sir Kiku, will you go against your king's word?" said Kireite mildly, frowning.

"You tricked him, disobedient child! Must I beat an order into you before you carry it out?"

Kireite's sunny smile returned, but this time with an edge to it, and he said softly "Come and try."

Kiku levelled his lance, blunt end forward; he had no intention of killing the boy. Kireite had no armour and hadn't even brought a lance. Instead he drew his borrowed sword, and braced himself. Kiku charged, and at the last second Kireite ducked and swept his sword up, knocking the lance upward. Kiku's horse was charging too hard to stop, and he was flung right into the edge of the blade. Kireite twisted it sharply, and it slid between the lacquered plates of armour on his shoulder. Kiku dropped his lance and slid off his horse, groaning; his bleeding arm collapsed beneath him and dropped him face-first in the dust. Alfred ran forward to help his comrade, and Kireite dismounted and held his swordpoint at Kiku's face.

Kiku spat out dirt, and said "So you have defeated me. Kill me, then."

"Why? Over words?" Kireite dropped his sword, took Kiku's hand, and pulled him up. "No. I think I've got my payback."

"Then I must. I shan't bear this dishonour," said Kiku, and drew his sword with his unharmed hand.

"Whoa!" Alfred seized the sword in one gauntleted hand and pulled it away; he was by far the strongest of all Arthur's knights, and it fairly flew from Kiku's hand. "You're a Round Table knight now and we don't do that kind of thing here. There's no shame in losing one fight, it happens. King Arthur needs you, would you leave him?"

"How can I serve him if I'm defeated by a kitchen boy?"

Kireite coughed, and said "Er, Sir Alfred's been training me, and... well, sir, when you said last year that I looked like I'd never held a sword, that wasn't quite right."

Kiku glared, but he put away his sword and let Alfred start bandaging his arm. "So you're a cheat, then."

"Hardly, sir. You said it, not me, and I used what I had."

"Still, I'm sure that's breaking the knight's code of honour."

"Maybe, sir, but I'm not a knight yet." Alfred didn't miss the boy's brief sidelong glance at him. He knotted the bandage and hauled Kiku back onto his horse.

"Go home. I can deal with him," he said firmly, and patted the horse's neck. "Go on, boy, take him home."

Kiku's horse trotted off back to Camelot, and Kireite looked at Alfred. "How did I do?"

"Pretty good," said Alfred, and drew his own sword. "But you also got lucky. Let's see if you can do it again."

Kireite grinned, and blocked Alfred's swing. He ducked under the blade and tried to get a hit in on Alfred, who twisted and swung again. Again and again they swung and blocked and dodged, and Alfred was the strongest of all of Arthur's knights by leagues, but the kitchen boy was stronger than he looked, and fast, and clever, and Alfred was sure he was striking harder than he ever had before.

"Hold!" cried Alfred, and put his sword down and his hand up. "You're good."

"I'd have to be, sir, to defeat Sir Kiku even with luck." Kireite was panting, and his smile had not dimmed a bit. "If I may ask, do you think I've earned my knighthood yet?"

"I think you have!" Alfred frowned. "One thing, if _I_ may ask. If I'm to knight you, wouldn't you rather I used your real name for it?"

Kireite stood up straight. "I suppose I should tell you now. I am Yong-Soo, of the House of Im."

"But that's..." Sir Alfred gaped. "You're the son of the Queen of Silla?"

"Yes. See, at home I can't trust that I'll be given a fair test by my future subjects, and who better to give me my knightly trials than the greatest knights in all the world?" Kireite, or rather Yong-Soo, coughed and shifted his feet. "And I'm fairly sure my sister's been trying to assassinate me since she turned ten, so, well, yeah, I thought I should leave."

"Fine, then," said Alfred, and hefted his sword. Yong-Soo knelt and clasped his roughened hands, and Alfred tapped his shoulder with the blade's flat. "Name of the house comes first in the East, right? Then in the name of High King Arthur, I dub thee Sir Im Yong-Soo, use the title well. And hurry, your damsel's disappearing over the horizon."

"She's not my damsel, her sister is," Yong-Soo said as he swung back up onto his horse. "Thanks, Alfred, but please don't come any further, and don't tell anyone who I am. I'm a knight now, I need to finish a quest alone."

Alfred nodded. "Good luck, then."

~

Sir Natalya had slowed her horse to a walk, and was very displeased when Yong-Soo's horse galloped up behind her. "You again? Isn't there something in the knight's code about not rescuing a maiden against her will?"

"Yes, but let's see what your sister thinks of that," he said mildly.

Natalya spat. "Bah, nevermind. You'll be killed at the first fight and then I'll be rid of you. At least ride further downwind. You smell like burning pork fat and you're choking me on soot." Yong-Soo obeyed with a nod, and Natalya only scowled harder. He followed her for many hours, though she led him through steep and rocky hillsides and dense dark forests in the hope of losing him, and at night he slept beside her campfire and she wondered whether it would break her knightly vows to just stab him. She decided it would, and he woke up unscathed and followed her all the next morning until she deeply regretted that decision.

"Stop it!" she eventually snarled at him. "Stop making so much noise! Don't hum, don't sing, and definitely don't _whistle!"_

"But it's such a beautiful day!" Yong-Soo cried, waving an arm at the little valley full of pink flowers around them, the pink granite cobblestones of their path, and the pink-blossomed apple trees on each side. On the hill not far away stood a pink sandstone castle. His hand brushed a tree near the path, and he glanced over to see a pink horn hanging from it. "Oh, what's that?"

"Don't play with-" Natalya stopped. "No, you know what? Go ahead and blow it. See what happens."

Yong-Soo's eyes lit up and he blew the horn with all his strength; it echoed out over the valley. Nothing seemed to happen, and he shrugged and hung it back up before riding on. However, soon they came to a little brook which crossed the pink path, and beyond it rode up a knight in a pink tabard, riding on a white horse with a pink saddle and bridle.

"Hey, was it you who blew my challenge horn? Not cool, broski," said the knight, taking off his helmet to reveal his blond hair and heavy-lidded green eyes. "You're supposed to stay near it and wait for me, ya know?"

"Oh, that's what it's for!" said Yong-Soo, snapping his fingers. Natalya glared at him.

"So it was him?" said the Pink Knight. "Is he, like, new at being a knight or something?"

"He's not a knight at all!" cried Natalya. "He's a nasty little kitchen boy who stole a horse and sword and followed me here! Honour demands I don't challenge such a weakling, but now he's challenged you. Please show him the error of his ways, sir knight."

The Pink Knight got off his horse and bowed. "With pleasure, ma'am. Kid, get down here! I'm not using a spear against you since you don't have one, come and use your sword if you know how."

"With pleasure, sir," said Yong-Soo; he slid to the ground and vaulted the brook, sword in hand.

The Pink Knight swung his sword lightly, intending to wound, and was surprised when Yong-Soo blocked it easily; curiously, he swung again, harder, and was blocked again, and again, never so much as touching the curl of Yong-Soo's hair, and it was harder than he thought to block the return strikes. Back and forth they battled, until the Pink Knight's foot landed in the brook, and Yong-Soo drove forward suddenly, and the Pink Knight slipped and landed on his back with Yong-Soo's sword at his throat.

"Whoa!" The Pink Knight stared up the blade at his attacker in utter surprise. "Wow, you're pretty good. Why does she think you're a kitchen boy?"

"Long story." Yong-Soo tapped his lip, and said "You know, I could kill you right now. Let me ask the leader of my quest." He turned to Natalya.

"I'm not leading you on any quest, brat, you're stalking me!" she snapped.

"Sounds like a yes to me," said Yong-Soo, and raised his sword over his head, the blade flashing in the sun.

Just as the blade reached the top of its arc and was about to swing down, Sir Natalya shouted "Stop! I order you to stop! How dare you? No honourable knight would kill a fallen man!"

Yong-Soo smoothly sheathed his sword and said "So I _am_ a knight, then?" Natalya spluttered in wordless rage, and Yong-Soo held out his hand to the Pink Knight and winked. "I'm Sir Yong-Soo of King Arthur's court."

"Sir Feliks. Thanks," said the Pink Knight, and shook his hand.

~

Sir Feliks the Pink Knight offered them the hospitality of the pink castle for the night, though Natalya ordered Yong-Soo to eat at the side table "away from the real knights", and he calmly obeyed despite Sir Felik's concern. The next day they rode out again, Natalya huffily taking the lead while Yong-Soo proudly brandished the pink shield he had won.

"You have no right to that," Natalya said with a scowl. "You can hardly say you beat him when you only won because he slipped in the stream."

"Then it's a gift," he replied. "And I'll do the giver the honour of using it. Wonder if he'll go and see King Arthur like I said. Camelot always needs new knights."

"At the very least you should have agreed when he offered to come with us to fight the Red Knight! Then I'd have a real knight with me!"

"You already do!" said Yong-Soo cheerfully, and Natalya screamed in frustration.

They rode on in silence, until they came to a blue-grey stone path leading through a cluster of blackthorn trees which dripped with blue sloe berries and climbing vines of red roses, with bluebells and lavender filling the ground beneath them, and from one of the trees hung a blue horn. Yong-Soo took it and blew it as hard as he could, and Natalya stared at him. He twirled the horn in his hands and said "Well, the last time was fun and I made a friend!" Natalya sighed, and rode on.

At the edge of the trees, a castle of blue-grey stone came into view, and so did a knight in blue upon a blue-black horse, with a red rose in his hand. _"Bonjour!"_ he called, tossing his golden hair and winking one blue eye. "Who comes to challenge Sir Francis the Blue Knight?" He looked at Yong-Soo, and chuckled. "Someone who defeated Feliks already, I see."

"By cheating!" Natalya shouted. Yong-Soo's calm expression did not change, and she was so enraged she came up with ever more cruel things to say. "He pushed him in the stream and cut his head off when he was down! I tried to stop him, I swear, sir, but what does a common thieving kitchen boy know of knightly honour?"

"What?!" Sir Francis lost his carefree manner, dropped his rose, and levelled his lance. "Sir Feliks was my friend. You'll pay for that wickedness, boy!"

Before Yong-Soo could explain himself, Sir Francis charged. Yong-Soo was able to dodge the first blow, and raised his shield against the second. With a sweep of his arm he pushed the lance up and away from himself, and ducked under it with his sword. Sir Francis blocked that, and they traded blows on and on until Francis was knocked from his horse and lay on the ground with Yong-Soo's swordpoint at his throat.

"Shall I spare him, Sir Natalya?" Yong-Soo asked. "After all, I didn't spare Sir Feliks." His voice dripped with so much sarcasm Sir Francis noticed, and looked at Natalya with bemusement. Natalya looked at Yong-Soo with a similar expression; this was the first time she'd heard him speak with anything but casual happiness.

"It's no concern of mine," she said.

"Fine, then." Yong-Soo pulled back his sword, ready to drive it down.

"No! Stop! Damn you, stop!" Yong-Soo paused, and looked at her until she spat on the ground and added "Please."

Yong-Soo put up his sword and said sweetly "There, was that so hard?"

"Did you say Feliks is alive?" asked Francis, accepting Yong-Soo's hand to help him up. "Then I'm sorry."

"No need," said Yong-Soo. "I did blow the challenge horn."

"Well, come and dine with me, anyway. It's the least I can do for such a fine young knight." Francis and Yong-Soo rode off towards the blue castle; Natalya fumed, but followed.

At dinner, Natalya demanded again that Yong-Soo be put at the side table, and he sat there as instructed. Sir Francis protested this mockery of his hospitality, but Natalya held firm, and so Yong-Soo stayed at the side table, but Francis joined him and left Natalya at the main table to eat alone. Sir Yong-Soo effusively praised the virtues of King Arthur's court, and Sir Francis promised to go and see it for himself. When he heard of their quest, Sir Francis offered to come with them, but once again Yong-Soo told him they would be fine.

~

"Don't you _ever_ get angry?"

Yong-Soo stopped admiring his new blue-ribboned lance and said "Of course I do. How did you think I've been winning?"

"Eh?"

"Being angry at you wouldn't help. I just pretend whoever I'm fighting said all the things you said, and once I win I'm not angry anymore."

Natalya huffed indignantly, but said nothing, and looked at Yong-Soo from behind her hair with a little less contempt than before.

Soon they rode on through a green forest, thick green grass and ferns growing at their horses' feet, and they thought there was nothing unusual about it, until Yong-Soo's sharp eyes caught a green horn hanging from a tree. He took the horn, and Natalya said nothing when he blew it, and neither were surprised when they came across a green-eyed knight dressed all in green on a brown horse with green tack, who waved his sword at them and bellowed "Get the hell off my land!"

Yong-Soo frowned, and said "Why did you leave the horn out if you didn't want people to blow it?" This was apparently the wrong thing to say, as the Green Knight promptly charged. Yong-Soo swung his lance into place, but the Green Knight knocked it out of the way with his shield, and Yong-Soo barely dodged his blow, but dodge he did, and he charged in turn. Again and again they attacked, until Yong-Soo finally got in a lucky blow, and the Green Knight toppled from his horse.

Before Yong-Soo could do a thing, Natalya shouted "Don't try to kill him!... Please."

Yong-Soo jumped from his horse and helped the knight up, and said "Of course not, Sir Natalya. An honourable knight would never do such a thing! I'm Sir Yong-Soo, what's your name, sir?"

"Sir Vash," said the knight, and shook his hand.

Once again, the two questors enjoyed hospitality, this time in a castle of green-grey stone with moss and grass sprouting so thickly from it it looked like part of the hill. This time Natalya merely muttered "Lucky," to Yong-Soo in passing and made no comment when he ate at the main table with her and Sir Vash. Once again, Yong-Soo told their host of King Arthur's court, and once again the host promised to see it for himself. Then he spoke to Natalya, and she told him of their quest.

"Please, Sir Natalya, Sir Yong-Soo, be careful! The Red Knight's castle isn't far from here, but I can't recommend you go. He has the strength of seven men! Will you face him with only two?"

"I've defeated every knight I've met so far," said Yong-Soo, pointing to his assorted armaments. "I'll be fine!"

"Well, far be it from me to stop you, but I must warn you, you're probably going to your death."

"I can't abandon my sister!" said Natalya. "But I don't know why the kitch- my companion is coming along."

Yong-Soo smiled, and shrugged. "It's what a knight of Arthur's court should do."

~

The next morning, out they rode again, Yong-Soo proudly wearing his new green helmet, and Natalya said nothing at all. All the way they travelled in silence, until they came to fields of poppies, and knew they must have reached the Red Knight's land. Red rose and apple and cherry trees grew, thicker and thicker, and then at noon the trees opened up around the riders to reveal a great castle of red sandstone. On every tree around hung the corpse of one the Red Knight had defeated, forty in all, save for one tree on which hung a red horn.

Yong-Soo picked up the horn, but Natalya raised a hand and cried "Wait! The Red Knight has the strength of seven men at noon, but his power wanes and waxes with the sun. At dawn and dusk his strength is that of one man, though still a strong one. Wait a few hours! If we fight him now, you'll certainly die!"

"And wouldn't I deserve to, if I lay in wait to fight him at his weakest? That's not what an honourable knight would do," said Yong-Soo, and blew the horn before Natalya could stop him. Her face reddened with rage, and became even redder when he said "And if you lost to him before, it doesn't seem knowing that helped you."

Natalya opened her mouth to say something, shut it again, blinked, and said "Ah! I see, you're doing to me what I did for you, you brat."

"Well, if we have such a fight ahead, it's worth a try, isn't it?" Yong-Soo looked up, and caught a glimpse of a maiden on the battlements, with short silvery hair and wide wet eyes. "Is that-?"

"Katyusha! Katyusha!" Natalya cried. "We're here! Don't worry!" Katyusha pulled an indigo ribbon from her bodice and threw it down, and it caught on Yong-Soo's curl.

The drawbridge fell, and over it rode a terrifying figure all in red-lacquered armour plates in the style of an Eastern land north of Yong-Soo's, face hidden by a monstrous mask under a red helmet, upon a chestnut horse. "What fool dares to challenge the Red..." His booming voice trailed off, upon realising Yong-Soo was staring up at the battlements and not looking at him at all.

Natalya shoved Yong-Soo. "Stop that!"

"Does your sister know her dress fell open when she took the ribbon off? Oh, there she goes..."

"Are you still just trying to make me angry or are you really this stupid?"

The argument was interrupted by the Red Knight's howl of laughter. "Sir Natalya the Golden Shrew again, facing me at noon this time, and this rag-tag idiot is all the help you bring? This won't take a full minute. Yekaterina, brew some tea for our victory celebration! This time I won't go easy on you, Natalya! I'll string both your corpses from my trees."

He charged, and both challengers pulled their horses around and attacked in turn, again and again until their lances broke upon his shield, and his lance shattered both their shields, and then they drew their swords and hacked his lance to pieces, and were just in time to duck blows from his sword which killed both their horses, and Natalya's horse fell on top of her and pinned her down, and she cut upwards at the Red Knight's horse and it fell too, and he rolled and came up swinging. Yong-Soo dodged and the Red Knight's sword drove deeply into the ground, but he pulled it free with a jerk. Yong-Soo struck him and Natalya swiped at his legs, and she shouted "Kitchen boy, don't you dare lose now!"

Yong-Soo redoubled his attack, but the Red Knight was indeed as strong as seven men, and Yong-Soo still had no armour but the green helmet. Only his speed was saving him, and he still took many glancing blows and his blood flowed as red as his enemy's armour, and the force of his own sword blows against the Red Knight's armour blistered and bruised his hands. Natalya shouted and screamed and swore, and threw all her weight against the dead horse pinning her, but she couldn't budge it, and Yong-Soo was tiring. The Red Knight drove him back until his back hit a tree and the dead man's feet brushed against his hair, and his sword arm throbbed, and he was about to drop. He saw Natalya fallen and Yekaterina weeping, and he let his sword arm sag, and the Red Knight drew back his sword.

Natalya looked up to see her sister weeping on the battlements, and tears filled up her own eyes. With the last of her breath, sure they both would die soon, she shouted "I'm sorry, Yong-Soo! I've treated you so dishonourably and you've been nothing but brave and kind. You're a truer knight than I am!"

And at her words Yong-Soo found one last burst of strength, and as the Red Knight's sword came down he found it skidding along Yong-Soo's sword and right out of his hand, and a strike dented his helmet, and another pierced between the plates of his armour into his arm, and one more strike flung him down.

The Red Knight sat up and reached for his sword, but at that very moment, there was a great noise in the trees, and three knights in full armour galloped out; one in pink, one in blue, and one in green. In moments they had surrounded the Red Knight, lances at his chest along with Yong-Soo's sword at his throat.

Yong-Soo looked at them in surprise. "You followed us after all?"

"Like, _yeah,_ bro! Sorry we're so late," said the Pink Knight.

"Did you really think we wouldn't? Too many have died here, and you're our friend," said the Blue Knight.

"He's had this coming a long time!" said the Green Knight.

Yong-Soo grinned, and said "Natalya, I really mean it this time; should I kill him?"

Natalya gazed in disbelieving relief at the ragged youth who had bested the Red Knight, and said "Why not? Did he spare those poor wretches on the trees? He wouldn't have spared us."

The Red Knight spat. "Kill me then, like your fellow knights killed Ivan!"

Yong-Soo frowned. "Who's Ivan?"

"My brother!" Natalya cried. "You know where he went?" She looked at Yong-Soo. "The king's knights killed him?"

"I don't know, perhaps they did," said Yong-Soo. "Fighting is part of the job."

"Sir Ivan was a rival of the Round Table for years, and he disappeared when he came to Arthur's land! Your king must be behind it!"

Sir Francis pointed to the corpses on the trees. "I don't see how you have any right to complain."

"I slew those men and women in fair combat!"

"Stop!" came a cry, and the men glanced up to see Yekaterina running over the drawbridge, handkerchief in hand and the other arm wrapped around her chest. "I told you, Yao, I told you!"

Sir Feliks blinked. "She knows your name?"

"Of course she does," said the Red Knight, and took off his helmet to reveal a youthful face and long dark hair, and Yong-Soo gaped as much as he had at Yekaterina. "I was her brother's friend. Sir Ivan and I have had bad dealings with Arthur's people before, and as I said he vanished in Arthur's land. The enchantment which increases my strength is strongest at this castle, and I hoped to inspire enough fear to draw out the knights of the king's court to challenge me. I killed those people in duels, not murder, but I didn't deny the rumours."

"I told him he should go to the court and challenge them directly if he was so sure!" Yekaterina said, wringing her hands. "I said if he wouldn't go, I would, and he locked me in the castle."

Sir Yao sighed. "And what would your brother have thought if I let you go off to die, if they really had murdered him?"

"King Arthur's court hasn't murdered anyone!" said Yong-Soo, putting away his sword and raising his hands. "And I shan't either. It won't bring your friend back or bring those you killed back to life. Let's just take them down and give them proper burials. And you, Sir Yao, if you're so sure Arthur did it, come back with us and challenge him to his face. Sneaking around like this is not the knightly way." He pushed aside the other knights' lances, and they went to pull Natalya free, and Yong-Soo clasped Sir Yao's hands in his. "I'll let you free, but as my prize I claim your breasts... plate! Breast _plate,_ I still need one."

"Stop looking at my sister!"

"Actually, that time I wasn't."

Yao politely but firmly pulled his hands away.

~

The Lady Yekaterina nursed the two knights' wounds in the red castle, and soon became fast friends with Yong-Soo and let him call her Katyusha as her sister did. Yao arranged for the bodies to be cut down and given burial according to their native rites, and he lit candles on every grave and prayed forgiveness. When he and Yong-Soo were healed, they set off back to Camelot, Yong-Soo in his mismatched armour riding at the front of the little parade and Natalya riding quietly beside him.

At Camelot, King Arthur and his knights sat to dinner, and the king raised his goblet. "To poor Kireite, a mere kitchen boy as brave as any of my knights. Surely he has died by now. Let us wish his spirit well." Sir Alfred said nothing, for he did not wish to face the king's wrath or burden him with grief by telling him Alfred had let a crown prince ride to his death, and so he merely drank along with the others.

Before the knights picked up their knives to eat, there was a great commotion outside, and Arthur got up to see. As he reached the door, it was flung open, and in marched a knight with pink shield, blue lance, green helmet, red breastplate, and an ordinary brown-handled sword, Sir Natalya and four unfamiliar men and one lady close behind.

"Good evening, sire. Are there places at table for an old friend and some new ones?" said the strange knight, and took off his helmet to reveal the face of the long-lost kitchen boy. Sir Kiku dropped his knife, and Sir Alfred whooped with joy and ran forward to embrace him.

"Yo- Kireite, you're alive!"

"It's alright, you can use my name now," said Yong-Soo, returning the hug.

"Yong-Soo, then," said Alfred, and Arthur and Kiku gasped and stared. "Did you bring home everyone you fought?"

"Why not?" said Yong-Soo, and his eyes twinkled. "A friend's more useful than a corpse."

"Quite true," said Arthur, and clapped his hands. "Servants, set places at the tables for our guests! Kire- Yong-Soo, are you _the_ Yong-Soo I'm thinking of?"

"If you're thinking of the crown prince of Silla, yes, sire, but here I'm just your knight."

"And a good one, I see," said Arthur. "You have earned your place at the Round Table!"

Yong-Soo dropped to one knee. "Oh, sire, I'm afraid you'll think me terribly greedy. I must ask for a fourth wish."

"What is it?"

"I can't accept a place at the Round Table unless Sir Natalya may join it as well." He looked at the surprised Natalya, and smiled. "She won half my quest for me."

"Then she may also join, by all means," said Arthur, and the magic of the table inscribed both their names in gold on a pair of chairs right beside each other. They sat and feasted, and from that day forth they were the very best of friends.

As for Yao, he demanded of every knight the location of his friend Ivan, and every one but Alfred swore on their knighthoods they had never heard of him. When he described the man, Sir Alfred was sure he'd seen him somewhere, but couldn't place him, and certainly hadn't killed him. Face to face, Yao was quite sure they were not lying; every other knight swore he or she would watch out to find Sir Ivan on their travels. And Ivan was eventually found, but that's another story.


	6. The Twelve Huntsmen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the Grimms' story of the same title. I'm using different names for the nyos than I do for a straight-out cisswap because the canon Nyotalia characters are established as being similar but not _the same_ as their counterparts, and so I thought different names would be a better idea, also more likely in a 'verse where they're all there. Some of them are the same, and I will possibly go back and change them one way or another at some point. This canon is complicated. (That's also why I have different OTPs with the nyos.) Also, I have every intention of establishing the tag "nyoexistence" for such an AU.

Far in the east where the sun rises is the great empire of Cathay, and many, many years ago it was ruled by the wise Emperor Wang Yao, and his closest advisors were his beloved sister Princess Chun Yan and his magical cat. Emperor Yao ruled wisely and well, and to his court he brought ladies and gentlemen from every state in the empire. And of these, the fairest of all was the Princess Honda Sakura of the Eastern Islands. Her hair was fine as silk, her skin as white as snow, and her hands and feet as dainty as petals. Gentlemen and ladies from all over the empire and beyond asked for her hand, and with the utmost politeness she turned every one of them down.

One fine day, Princess Sakura was among the representatives of Cathay at the wedding of Emperor Arthur of Europa. She stood with her brother Kiku and threw rose petals, and her eyes happened to alight upon the new King Consort's sister. Lady Emily Williams-Jones was taller and stronger than many men, with amber-coloured hair and sea-blue eyes and warm tanned skin, and she couldn't have been less like Sakura. At the ball after the ceremony, Sakura heard her speak; her laugh could have knocked down trees, and she laughed often. After the stiff formality of the ceremony, Emily was refreshing, and Sakura permitted Chun Yan to introduce them. Emily giggled, Sakura fluttered her fan, and they danced together, and Sakura's heart was lost. Before the night was over, so was Emily's.

Too soon it was time for the delegation from Cathay to leave. Sakura took a pearl ring from her finger, and slipped it onto Emily's; it only just fit on her smallest finger, but fit it did. "Please do me the honour of accepting this token, Lady Emily."

"Of course I accept!" said Emily, and clasped Sakura's hands. "I'll wear it forever." They promised to write to each other, and Sakura left. Over the weeks and months, they wrote to each other often, and fell more deeply in love every day.

One day, the Emperor Yao summoned Princess Sakura to his throne room, and said "Princess, it is time you were married. I have begun the arrangements already."

"Certainly, your majesty," said Sakura, bowing deeply. "I shall write to Emily this very day."

"Emily? No, no!" said the emperor. "You shall be married to Sadiq Adnan, king of the Moors."

"What?" Sakura turned paler than ever.

"Your brother Kiku was promised in marriage to him and ran off with the Graecian prince. He's threatened war unless we give him a new bride or groom! I told him of you, and he seemed content. Oh, don't look so frightened," said Yao, as kindly as he could, for he truly did care for Sakura. "He's a fiery man but not a cruel one. He will make a fine husband."

"I can't marry him!" cried Sakura. "I love Emily, and how can you marry me off to him when I'm not even permitted to see his face? Even in his portraits he wears a mask!"

"He has taken a vow not to show his face to anyone until he marries, so his future spouse's decision will not be made only because of his appearance. Surely no princess would be so shallow as to turn him down for that? And even if you weren't promised to him, you can't marry Emily. A princess of Cathay marry the fourth child of a house which had no title at all till her brother pulled some heroics and wed an emperor? Nonsense!"

"But Alfred was the third child of that house and Arthur married him before they had the title!"

"It was Arthur's choice to risk his own reputation, it's my choice to make sure yours is safe. King Sadiq arrives for the wedding in six weeks. I suggest you talk to him with the magic mirror in the meantime."

Sakura fled the throne room and hid away in her bed, blankets over her head and tears soaking her pillows.

The Princess Soo-Jin of the Northeast Peninsula had never got along well with Princess Sakura, but her heart was filled with sorrow at the sight, and she knocked on Sakura's door and tried to offer comfort. "I don't want your pity!" cried Sakura, and flung a vase at her.

"Do you want my help, though?" said Soo-Jin. "I can talk to King Sadiq for you. He wears a mask, he can't object if his bride-to-be wears a veil. I'll pretend to be you and maybe I can put him off, even just a little longer!"

Sakura was silent for a long time, then very quietly said "Yes. Thank you."

~

When Emily received the message from Yao, she did not fling herself into bed and weep as Sakura had done. Instead, she stamped around the palace, screaming and swearing and calling down all manner of curses on the emperor, and punched the stone walls until her knuckles bled. Finally, when she was exhausted she did fling herself into bed, and fumed like a kettle, and plotted.

The Lady Emily had three dear siblings; her twin King Consort Alfred, her older brother Lord Matthew, and her older sister Lady Marguerite. All three of them feared for her, and when she finally unlocked her door, they gathered round and said "What may we do to help you? Is there any wish we may grant you?"

"Yes, there is," she said. "Marguerite, bring me as many young ladies as you can find who look as much like me as possible and will come with me on an adventure. Matthew, bring me some trustworthy tailors, hatters, and shoemakers. Alfred, ask your husband to look in his books for the fastest travelling spell to far Cathay!"

Her siblings looked at each other as if she had gone mad, but with such heartbreak, who would blame her if she had? Perhaps it was best to humour her. And so her wishes were carried out.

~

"I can't believe you're making _me_ do this too!"

"Everyone says we look alike," said Emily proudly, and finished tucking her sister's hair under the big feathered hat. "I need ladies who look like me so I don't stand out."

"Why can't you take men?"

"As I said, I don't want to stand out! If I'm surrounded by men I'll be noticed right away. Right, we're done. Boys! Come in."

Matthew and Alfred and King Arthur and little Prince Peter opened the dressing room door and stared. Emily and Marguerite sat at the table, and along the wall stood as many golden-haired and fair-skinned ladies as Marguerite had found. There was little Elise Vogel-Zwingli and her sister Verena the imperial gunsmith; Lady Marianne Bonnefoy; Guard Captain Monika Beilschmidt; Beatrix Oxenstierna the woodcarver and Taika Vainamoinen the furrier; Mathilde Koeler the barmaid; the merchant sisters Emma and Anneke de Vries; the princess' maid Eha von Bock; and the king's own sisters, the Princesses Alice and Wendy, who were arguing as always. And every one of them, from their feathered hats to their high leather boots, was dressed like a huntsman.

"No, Wendy, you can't come! You're only twelve!"

"But Yun-Soo and Soo-Jong go hunting all the time and _they're_ only twelve!"

"Yun-Soo and Soo-Jong are known from Cathay to Columbia as ghastly little troublemakers and nobody will care if they die. For some reason Mr Oxenstierna likes you and he scares me, so I have to keep you safe."

"But we can't bring thirteen! It'll be bad luck," said Mathilde sagely.

"Why aren't we bringing Wanda Lukasiewicz? She looks no less like Lady Emily than I do, and I don't look much like her," said Emma, adjusting her jacket. "And she wears men's clothes all the time!"

Verena scoffed. "You think she could keep a secret this big? I'll be surprised if Emily can," she added under her breath.

"Bringing? You're going..." Arthur's huge eyebrows raised in horror. "You're running off to far Cathay with a gaggle of women dressed as male hunters? You'll be hanged for fraud!"

"Of course I won't, sire!" said Emily, picking up a pair of scissors. "They don't hang people in Cathay, they behead 'em." Snip went the scissors, and she held up all her long hair in a bundle. "Maggie, hand me that paste." She turned her back and fiddled with the glue and snipped her hair some more, and when she turned around she had a huge bushy moustache. "How do I look?"

"Ridiculous."

"Good. Nobody would think a lady would make herself look so stupid." Emily rolled up the hair and tucked it and the paste into her pocket for later refreshing of the disguise.

"You've met Marianne before?" said Alice, and Marianne kicked her with her big boots.

"I forbid this!" shouted Arthur, grasping his sisters' arms. "Alice, Wendy, you certainly can't go. If you're caught, I'll be blamed and war will be declared!"

"Awww!" cried Wendy. "Can I at least keep the hat?"

"War won't be declared if I go," said Emily. "Alfred's the important one, and if anyone asks, I never told him and I made all you ladies come with me."

"Why _are_ you going along with this nonsense?" asked Matthew. "Ms Oxenstierna, Miss von Bock, Maggie, I know you're sensible women! Why are you risking your lives?"

Beatrix shrugged. "Someone's gotta keep her out o' more trouble."

"Sounded like fun!" said Mathilde.

"Yes! I'm tired of needlepoint," said Elise.

"How can I turn down a chance to aid the course of true love?" sighed Marianne.

"She's paying me," said Anneke, and Verena nodded.

And so, with their chests bound up in special corset-like cloths and their boots padded to make them taller, a dozen women stood in a chalk circle and cast the travelling spell. Arthur sorely regretted having told it to Emily before he knew what she would use it for, but forbidding her would only make her more determined and following her would only draw attention. At least he had the chance to tell Marguerite to keep chalk in her pockets and remember the spell in case they needed it. They drew and chanted, and in a burst of light they were outside the imperial palace of Cathay.

~

It was a sight the Emperor had never seen before; twelve huntsmen, all with fair skin and golden hair, marching under guard into the throne room and kowtowing before the throne. The first, a tall man with a prodigious moustache, said in a gruff and gurgling voice (did he have a head cold, or was he just bad at the language?) "We would speak with his Imperial Majesty Wang Yao."

"I am he," said the emperor, and his great white cat with the red ribbon on its ear looked sleepily up from its huge pillow at his feet. "Speak, man."

"His imperial court's skill and cunning in the hunt is unparalleled across the globe. We have travelled all the way from the islands of Britannia in the furthest reaches of Europa to serve his majesty and perhaps learn even a little of his talent."

Emperor Yao nodded. "It pleases me greatly to inspire you, gentlemen. I hunt tomorrow, consider it a trial run. Speak to my servants and they'll find you lodgings." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them, and they marched back out, Emily forcing herself not to skip and grin with glee.

Sakura still hadn't left her room, but she must some time soon. When she did, Emily would be there. Meanwhile, she would see if she could draw out the emperor's thoughts and find how to persuade him Emily would be a better match than King Sadiq.

~

The great white cat sat up on his silk cushion, and said "Sire, they deceive you."

"In what way, Kitty-chan?" asked the Emperor.

The cat stood up and put his front paws on the Emperor's lap, and said conspiratorially "These huntsmen are all _women,_ sire! Trust me. A cat's nose doesn't lie."

"What? Why would they disguise themselves as men? Did they think women couldn't ride with the hunt here? Princess Yun-Soo does all the time."

"I don't know, sire, perhaps they're spies."

The Emperor laughed. "I'm sure spies would come up with a better idea. And I've never seen women so muscular. Are you sure of this?"

"Certain, sire, and I can prove it!"

"How?"

Now, Kitty-chan was as wise as any learned human, and the spell which permitted him to speak would only let him speak the truth as he saw it. However, even the wisest man is ignorant of some things, and the cat had only ever lived among lords and ladies; delicate ladies who wore voluminous robes and heavy jewels and minced about on tiny feet in silken slippers whenever they weren't carried on litters. So he said "Well, it's quite simple..."

~

The Prince Yong-Soo and the Princess Soo-Jin were, in their lessons, two of the cleverest young nobles the palace had ever seen. Their poetry was charming, their skills in mathematics were matched by very few, and they loved to tinker with mechanics and create devices which the whole palace applauded. However, they were not very observant at all when it came to people, and both of them were gossips.

"You'll never guess what we heard!" said Yong-Soo to Emily in the stables that evening. All the eleven other huntsmen looked up and listened.

"Oh, you'll never guess!" said Soo-Jin, and giggled behind her hands.

"I'm sure I couldn't. So please tell me, your highnesses," said Emily.

"Well, we were waiting outside the throne room," said Soo-Jin. "And the emperor was talking to his cat. And the cat said-"

"The cat speaks back, your highnesses?" asked Mathilde, who was polishing her boots.

"Of course he does!" said Yong-Soo. "He was a gift from the best wizards in the Eastern Islands, he speaks and is bound to always speak the truth."

"And he said..." Soo-Jin burst into giggles again. "He said you're all really a bunch of _women!_ Why would women dress up as men just to go hunting with the emperor?"

"And he said, oh, you'll never believe this. He said he can prove it. He said all the Emperor has to do is dump a bowl of peas on the floor. The cat says if you're really men, you'll walk with a _strong_ step and crush them like this..." Yong-Soo demonstrated with an exaggerated stomp across the room, fists clenched and brow furrowed in mocking concentration. "And if you're women you'll flounce around with tiny steps..." which he did, holding up his coat like a ballgown hem and skipping on tiptoe, "like this, and kick them all over the place." He sat back down and laughed so hard he had to clutch his stomach.

"I don't know why he thinks that. Really, has he seen _me_ walk?" said Soo-Jin, fluttering her hand dismissively.

"Not often. I know you're scared of cats."

"So are you!" Soo-Jin shoved her brother and they left, bickering happily.

Emily and her friends looked at each other, and Emily and Mathilde burst into whoops of laughter. "What a load of garbage! Anyone can stomp on peas!"

"Oh dear, I don't think I can!" wailed Lady Marianne, wringing her hands. "A lady does not stomp!"

"Nor does a lady's maid!" moaned Eha.

"Nor does a silk merchant!" said Emma. 

"Speak for yourself!" said Anneke.

"And little Elise's so dainty, would her weight even crush a pea?" said Taika. "We all know what happened the last time peas and princesses got involved. There's nothing for it, we must practice walking more like men."

Emily stood up, hands on her hips. "Don't worry. Before my brother wed King Arthur we were landowners. You _have_ to stomp in mud. I'll show y'all!" And she found the sack of dried peas and beans which were to be fed to the horses, and flung handfuls on the floor. The twelve huntsmen stood at one end of the stable and marched to the other, calling out advice to each other as they did.

"Remember how your brothers walk!"

"That's no help, Anneke! Francis minces about more lightly than I do."

"You're doing well, Emma - arms out from your body a little, swing your feet straight forward, try not to move your hips."

"Don't make it _look_ as if you're throwing your weight into it, Elise!"

"You're doing great, Marianne - ow, that one was a stone!"

And when they turned around at the other end and walked back over a fresh layer thrown by Emily, every one of them walked smoothly down the stables and crushed every pea and bean beneath their boots as if they had been stamping around like giants all their lives. They quickly swept up all the mess and wiped their boots, and went to bed.

The next morning, Emperor Yao, Kitty-chan, and the little hunters Yun-Soo and Soo-Jong met them in the grand entry hall, with every inch of the long wooden floor polished like a mirror and strewn with dried peas. "Come, my bold huntsmen," he said, eyes on the peas. "Join me and we'll see what you are capable of!" The little prince and princess smirked, as their brother and sister had told them what was happening, and they couldn't wait to see what would happen.

Emily smiled beneath her moustache, and took the lead as the huntsmen stomped across the floor. She looked down briefly with a little guilt about making work for the servants, but once an emperor had an idea in his head it was best to go along with it. Down the hall they went, and not one of them slipped, and by the time they reached the emperor and bowed before him, they had each left a path of perfectly flattened peas. Emperor Yao and Kitty-chan stared at the dirtied floor, and the little prince and princess fell about giggling.

"Might your royal highnesses deign to favour your servants with the joke?" asked Marianne, eyes twinkling.

"Oh, it's nothing important," said the emperor, clasping a hand over each child's mouth. "You know, something's different about you since I saw you yesterday."

"We're wearing new scarves, your majesty," said Verena.

"Oh, of course."

~

The party rode to the lake, and the hunt went marvellously. Some of the women had hunted before, Lady Emily and Lady Marianne with the court and the working women to fill their larders, and they made sure Elise and Emma and Eha picked up the idea quickly. Each of them came back with at least one fat bird strung from their saddles, and Emily presented the very fattest to the emperor, saying "Please, your majesty, give this to the Princess Sakura with my compliments. I hear she's soon to be married, and I'd like to give her a gift. I know it's just a simple duck, but see what beautiful feathers it has, and how plump it is!"

"Thank you very much," said Emperor Yao. "Perhaps a gift will cheer her up. She does love duck."

"She doesn't wish to be married, your majesty?" said Emily, pretending surprise.

"Oh, she does. Just not to the man who's marrying her," sighed the emperor. "But what can I do? Either he takes a spouse or he declares war, and her brother's who he really wanted but he's no longer available. She was the next best thing, and that isn't helping her feelings at all, to know he doesn't even specifically want her."

"Oh, that's so sad!" Emily dabbed away real tears.

"Must be done, sadly. I like Sakura, I wish it didn't have to be so, but that's what happens among royalty."

~

The Princesses Soo-Jin and Sakura left the royal bathhouse, hair still damp, whispering to each other as they walked down the path.

"... so he still thinks I'm you. I don't know why you don't want to marry him. I like him."

"I love Emily," said Sakura firmly. "And has he taken his mask off yet? How do you know he isn't a Gorgon or an ogre under it?"

"I don't think you can get male Gorgons. And besides, there's a reason the gods made night-time dark," said Soo-Jin, nodding and winking.

"Princess Soo-Jin, march right back into that bathhouse and wash out your mouth!"

"Hmph. King Sadiq thinks I'm funny."

"What? You talk like that in front of him?" Sakura clasped her hands over her blushing face. "Ohh, now I really can't marry him! He'll know right away I'm not you!"

"Plenty of people talk differently face to face than in the magic mirror," Soo-Jin protested. "I know you weren't so shy with Emily!"

"You listened to my conversations! I can't believe you, you..." Sakura chased Soo-Jin down the path, wielding her fan like a sword, Soo-Jin laughing. Emily, hidden round the corner of the building, grinned. She set off down the path after them, stepping quietly until her boot slipped on the gravel. The princesses spun round, Sakura aiming the sharp points of her fan.

"Sorry, your highnesses!" Emily squeaked, then coughed and put her gruff voice back on. "Ahem. Sorry, I got lost." She bowed very deeply. Sakura's eyes widened and she swung her fan back up to her face.

"Soo-Jin, dear, would you leave us for a moment?"

"Leave you alone with a stranger? Oh, Sakura, how improper!" Soo-Jin winked. "See, you can totally pass for me." She darted off, giggling again.

Sakura glanced back to confirm she was gone, then spun and hissed "Emily, what in the name of all the hells do you think you are _doing?"_

"You know it's me?"

"Of course I know it's you!" Sakura whispered. "I was forbidden from proposing and suddenly a blonde stranger in a bad fake moustache shows up? Strange timing if it's not!"

"It's not that bad, is it?" Emily wrinkled her lip and a few more strands drifted free.

"Oh, what am I going to do with you, Emily?"

"You should marry me, but if you can't do that..." Emily swept the princess up in her arms. "... at least I can be near you."

"Oh, Emily," Sakura sighed, and let Emily kiss her, and didn't complain about the moustache.

~

"The huntsmen look terribly familiar," said Princess Chun Yan, at her needlework. Sakura, sitting at her left and also embroidering, said nothing.

Kitty-chan stopped playing with a spindle, and said "Hunts _women!"_

"Not this again," groaned Yao.

Chun Yan put down her needle. "Now you mention it, they do look a little... feminine. I might be wrong, though. Unwise people have said the same of you, brother dear." She smiled at his icy look, and added "People who were beheaded right off, of course."

"Hm. Maybe it's because they look like some women you knew once? Though... really, all of them?"

"Well, they're all golden-haired, fair-skinned, and light-eyed, and did you see the muscles on half of them? I know all blondes tend to look the same just because we don't see many, but this is a little bit more than that."

"Perhaps they remind you of Lady Emily," said Soo-Yin, at Chun Yan's right, and Sakura froze for a moment. "She looked like that, didn't she? Ah, guilt! Her imperial highness introduced two lovers, and now she and his majesty must stand between them! It's just like in my operas."

"Please don't sing." Yao paced the floor, and muttered "Maybe they _are_ spies."

"Try another test," said Kitty-chan. "Tell them the princesses wish to speak with them, and invite them into the sewing room..."

~

"This is even sillier than last time," said Verena. "I know plenty of men who sew and spin, and plenty of women who don't."

"Yeah, but men don't tend to openly gush over it," said Mathilde. Anneke, who had never gushed over anything in her life, scowled a little harder. "I think he's hoping we'll all squee over the pretty things."

Emily chuckled. "Okay, everyone, just ignore all the froufrou stuff. Easy. Thanks, honey." Sakura nodded and slipped away from the stables, and left the huntsmen to sleep.

The next day, they entered the princesses' sewing room, and were almost blinded by the beauty of everything from the golden spinning wheel to the in-progress silken hangings, but they remained resolute. Then they spotted the gowns. Gowns of red silk, trimmed with gold and rubies, topped with golden headdresses; a dozen gowns, in sizes to fit every one of the huntsmen. Even stoic Anneke was sorely tempted to look closer, coming as she did from a family of silk merchants. Lady Marianne's eyes were darting around the room; she wanted _so_ badly to wear silk and gems again, but she stayed resolute, and made herself stare instead at Verena and Mathilde, who really were completely uninterested. Emily bit the inside of her lip under her fake moustache, and walked steadily across the room, not looking anywhere but exactly at the Princess Chun Yan, especially not at Sakura.

"Do you like our handiwork?" said Chun Yan sweetly. "We are just finishing the gowns for the Princess Sakura's wedding attendants. Her groom arrives very soon."

And with that, the girls' hearts froze over, and not even Marianne looked back at the gowns. However beautiful they were, none of the women wanted anything to do with the wedding that was breaking the heart of their friend and benefactor and her true love. Emily faked a happy tone and said "It's lovely, your highness. I'm afraid I don't know enough of sewing to comment more, but I can see they're all excellent."

Prince Yong-Soo looked curiously into the room, and scurried up to the golden spinning wheel. "Excuse me, ma'am, can I have a go with this? I'm working on a modification which will allow you to spin twice as fast!" He snatched up a measuring tape from the table and started playing with the wheel. Chun Yan stifled a groan. Well, if their suspicions were right they'd certainly proved one thing; cats knew little about women.

~

The hunt was tiring, and the day was hot. Emily sweltered in her coat and shirt and binder, under her heavy hat, and sweat filled her big leather gloves so much that Sakura's ring almost slipped off and the glue of her moustache melted and left it lopsided. Everyone else was too busy and too hot to notice. They had set out before dawn, and by noon their saddlebags groaned with birds and hare, and the emperor dismounted his sturdy stallion so it could carry a boar instead.

It was early afternoon when they reached the palace again, the hottest part of the day, and after so much hard riding Emily felt extremely queasy. The others weren't doing very well either, Marianne and Eha especially, but they had taken off their jackets and hats. Emily didn't dare; the emperor might recognise her with her hair visible, and she was sweating so much her binder would show through her shirt. The damn thing was making it worse on its own, keeping her breaths shallow. At least they reached the palace quite soon, even at the slow pace of their tired horses. Emily longed to sit and drink some water. Emperor Yao was flagging by now too, leading his horse more slowly, but he summoned up the energy to call out when he saw Sakura waiting by the courtyard door.

"Princess!" he cried, waving a hand. "You should be preparing! Your groom arrives tomorrow!"

"Yes, your majesty, I was merely feeding my horse," said the princess in her usual calm tone, but Emily could see the sorrow in her eyes. It was too late. She hadn't found a way to stop the wedding. Her heart beat faster, her breath tried to come quicker...

"Em- Ed!" Marguerite cried as Emily slid off her horse in a dead faint, her hat falling as she did. The hunters stopped their horses and dismounted to run to her, but Emperor Yao, already being on foot, reached her first.

"Stay back! This man needs air!" he shouted, and ripped open Emily's jacket. "Here, someone take his gloves..."

"No, wait, I will-!" Sakura cried, running forward, but Emily's gloves lay in Yao's hand and the ring was visible to all.

Yao frowned. "Sakura, isn't this your...?" He looked at Emily's face, and ripped off the half-unstuck moustache. Emily yelped and awoke, to see Yao looking down at her in icy rage.

"Um." She coughed. "Hello."

~

As a noble prisoner, Emily was confined to a bedroom in the palace, and Sakura was permitted to bring her a decent meal that evening. Still, the axe hung heavy in everyone's minds. The bedroom door was a paper screen, but two armed guards stood outside, and another two under the window. After dinner, the emperor, his sister, and his cat presided over the throne room, the four Im siblings watching from the sidelines as Emily and her eleven ersatz huntsmen were brought in chains. It was a pity Marguerite's coat had been taken away; the chalk they needed for the travelling spell was in the pockets.

"Alright. I'm calm now, I'm ready to talk about this like an adult," said the emperor. "Miss Williams-Jones-"

 _"Lady_ Williams-Jones, please, your imperial majesty," said Emily. "The title was legitimately given."

"Lady Williams-Jones, were you aware that both fraud and making the imperial family look bad carry the penalty of death by beheading in Cathay?" Yao sounded truly sad.

"Yes."

"And all your ladies, what about them?"

"This was my fault, your majesty, please let them go! It was my idea, I forced them."

"They still carried out the crime."

"That's true, your majesty, but who was hurt by their part in it? You wanted hunters, and you got hunters - pretty darn good ones too. I don't see how their gender matters. All the blame is on me. Let me take their punishment."

"Interesting defence." Yao sighed. "Very well. They will be banished instead, effective as soon as the princess' wedding is over and I have people free to arrange it. They can just go home." The women sighed with relief; Verena squeezed Elise's hand, Eha wept into Ms Vainamoinen's shoulder. Yao's icy demeanour resumed. "You, on the other hand, masterminded this, correct? In order to, if I have this right, sabotage the royal wedding? To seduce the princess?"

"Little late for that," said Emily. Her flippancy was not appreciated.

"An act of high treason!" shouted Yao. "Also worthy of beheading! And yet..." he sighed, "I don't know if I have it in my heart to punish you merely for love. And if I do, the princess's heart will break again, and this time we might have two deaths. But an emperor can't pick and choose what laws he wants to enforce, Lady Williams-Jones."

"If I may speak, sire?"

"Speak, Kitty-chan. I owe you. You were right all along."

"The truly wronged party is King Sadiq, isn't it? Let him be the one to decide the punishment. If he is, as you have said, not a cruel man, he'll show mercy."

Yao stroked the cat's beribboned ears. "Very well, then. I hope you're right now too, Kitty."

Emily was returned under guard to her room for the night, and the huntsmen to their barracks. Sakura followed Emily, and spoke to her through the paper door.

"They can't kill you, they can't," she wept. "If they do, I can't even follow you. King Sadiq will declare war if he loses me after he lost my brother! I can't kill so many people too."

"Please don't try," said Emily. "If... if they do, please live for me."

Sakura dried her tears. "I think I can save you. If it comes to it, I'll beg for your life as a wedding gift. You'll probably still be banished too, but you'll be alive."

Emily pressed her hand against the paper, and Sakura pressed hers onto it, and through the thin paper they looked into each other's eyes.

~

The next day, Sakura and Emily were brought to the throne room. Sakura was dressed up all in red silk, the colour of weddings in Cathay; with it, she insisted on wearing a white sash, the colour of death. Beside her stood Chun Yan and the older Im siblings. Soo-Jin wore the traditional princess' green robe from her land, with a veil, as it would not do to be seen weeping for a traitor. Yao stood on Sakura's other side; beside him was Emily, hands bound behind her back and held by Yao himself, dressed in a white gown. Should Sadiq not show mercy, it would become her shroud, and would be decorated with red.

The trumpets sounded, and the doors burst open, and a tall man in flowing robes and polished ivory mask entered, flanked and followed by his royal attendants. King Sadiq had arrived. He marched up the hall and bowed deeply to Yao, and after the formal greetings he clapped his hands and said "So where's my bride? Where's the princess I've spoken to in the mirror?"

Soo-Jin trembled, stepped forward, and blurted out "Me!"

"Ha! Yes, I'd know that hair anywhere! It stuck out from under your veil a few times." King Sadiq knelt at Soo-Jin's feet and took her hand. "Allow me to do you the honour of formally proposing, princess." And with that, he took off his mask and hat, revealing a handsome face with thick hair and a flashing smile. Soo-Jin blushed, and stifled a giggle.

"No! No, stop! What are you doing?" Yao let go of Emily and pulled Sakura forward. "King Sadiq, _this_ is Princess Sakura! Soo-Jin, what have you done?"

"Lied to you," said Soo-Jin, shaking but resolute. "I took Sakura's place to talk to him, because she was still pining over Emily. So if Emily's to die today, kill me too. We both lied for love."

Sadiq looked at Yao in bafflement, and Yao sighed. "Well, it's like this..."

He explained the whole story, Emily and Sakura staring defiantly at Sadiq's face the whole time. When he finished, Sadiq looked back at Soo-Jin, who said "If I may make a last request, sire, if you'll only show mercy to one of us, let it be Emily, so my part won't have been in vain. And if it's neither of us, then to hell with you!"

Chun Yan gasped and Sakura clutched Emily's arm, and Sadiq burst into a roaring laugh.

"That's the best story I've heard in a long time! You really...? And you never...? Ahaha, that's amazing!" He clapped Soo-Jin on the back and she almost fell over.

"You're... you're really not mad about it? Not even a little?" Hope crept into Yao's voice.

"Well, I might have been, but all you promised was _a_ princess, and it seems that one's not available but you have another right here," Sadiq said, looking back at Soo-Jin. "If there's no prior claim on her too, and if she accepts?"

Soo-Jin eyed his muscles and shook her head vigorously. "No, no, it's fine by me!"

"There you go," said Sadiq. "Besides, I already took my mask off. Now I _have_ to marry her. It's in the law, no way around it, I'm afraid."

"Really?" whispered Soo-Jin as Yao ran to free Emily.

"No, but he doesn't know that. Just making sure."

Emily rubbed the feeling back into her wrists and swept Sakura up in a kiss, tears mingling on their cheeks.

~

The very next day, a double wedding was held. Emily's brothers and brother-in-law were informed by mirror and took the travelling spell, and kissed her and hugged her and told her how glad they were she was alive. Her white dress was hastily decorated with red trim and rubies to make a wedding gown, and the eleven huntsmen put on the red gowns they had disdained before and threw rose petals. At the wedding feast, Soo-Jin taught Sadiq to use chopsticks properly while her siblings discussed the many uses of gunpowder with Verena, and Emily and Sakura fed little bits to Kitty-chan.

"Why didn't you tell me about this princess before?" Sadiq said, when he finished laughing at Soo-Jin's latest comment.

"We thought you'd prefer Sakura!" said Chun Yan. "You were promised her brother, after all."

"Well, yes," he said, and sipped his wine, "but maybe it's for the better I marry someone less like him. I don't need a constant reminder." He sighed. "Though now I think it's time to make peace with Graecia. I hear he's happy there, and I'm happy here." Soo-Jin smiled, and shifted closer to him.

"Well, now we just need to get your brother married off," Yao said to her, and at her pout he said "Oh, come on, if he gets any more annoying I'm going to do something to him which will provoke rebellion from your people and then where will we be?"

Soon it was time to dance, and Marguerite danced with Czar Kristiyan of the Snow Kingdom and Chun Yan with his sister Anya, and Sakura and Emily slipped away early.

"All's well that ends well, I guess," said Emily. "Phew."

"Phew indeed. I truly thought you were doomed." Sakura clung to Emily as if she'd disappear. "Please, as a wedding gift, promise me you will never, never, _never_ do something that stupid again."

Emily laughed. "I could, but if I hadn't done something that stupid, we wouldn't be married now!"

"Good point, but regardless, I hope you'll never need to take such a risk again."

"Me too, honey, me too. Alfred had his adventures, I think this can be all of mine for now."

"Give it at least a little time. I think we both need to recover from this one." Sakura looked up, under her eyelashes. "Claim your prize and kiss me, my brave huntsman, and thank goodness you're not wearing that damned moustache."

Emily laughed, and kissed her bride, and both of them and all their friends lived happily ever after.


	7. Lovino the Latin Sphynx

Once there was a fair city that lay on seven hills, built of white stone and polished wood that gleamed beneath the sun, which shone most bright and hot and beautiful upon it. The fields around it grew lush and green and fertile, and the river beside it ran clear and sweet. And yet, the people lived in fear.

On the day our story begins, the sun was barely rising, and the night breeze still blew cold. Fishers and bakers and butchers were already starting about their business, and every one of them looked up in fear as the great bells of the cathedral rang out the death-knell. The people hurried to the square beneath the palace, to see the latest sacrifice to the young king's wrath. As the sun rose, the tall and scar-faced executioner emerged, and in his hands he bore the waxen death mask, which he hung upon the palace wall. He was running out of room; a hundred masks hung already, every one a suitor of the king. From all lands they had come to court him: dark-haired queens of the southern jungles and pale-haired kings of the northern taiga; fat old royals and fit young warriors; and all six offspring of the queen of the Tin Islands, from Alistair with the wild red beard to Molly the only daughter to little twelve-year-old Peter who had heard too many tales in which the youngest prince would always win. Today he hung the mask of the Tsarina's brother, and the crowd moaned in sorrow to see the peaceful smile on the waxen face.

"Make way, make way!" came a call through the cries, as a golden-haired man led a white-haired one. "Make way for a blinded man!"

Two other gentlemen in the square turned at the shout, and the oldest said "Do I know that voice?"

"I know I don't," said the younger. "But that man looks familiar... Wait." He stared, and threw up his hands and shouted "Brother? _Brother!"_

The blind man and his escort turned. "What? It can't be..." said the blind man.

The second man practically squealed "But it is, it _is!"_

The two pairs collided in the crowd and the blind man felt the faces of the newcomers. "My brother! My friend An-"

"Sshh!" Duke Antonio, for that was his name, pressed a finger to the blind man's lips. "Lord Shickelgruber's spies could be anywhere, even now. He still seeks us all."

The blind man, the once-King Gilbert of a great land to the north, struck his stick on the cobbles angrily. "Five long years, and still we've had no luck taking our land back. But now we've had luck at something else. I thought I'd never see either of you again!... Or, well, meet you." He touched his blindfold.

Antonio wiped his own eyes and hugged Gilbert, and Gilbert's brother Ludwig followed suit. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I got your brother out of the palace and we fled. We've been wandering ever since."

"So have Francis and I." Gilbert nodded to his companion, who bowed.

"Who are you, sir?" asked Ludwig.

"Oh, I'm not a sir, just a palace cook. Or I was. Call me Francis, please."

Gilbert nudged him. "If I get my land back, you'll be made a duke for all the help you've given me, my friend. I'd be dead without you. You never even told me why."

"Because you and your brother were good to me and my family, sire. Is that so hard to believe? Far better than your treacherous chancellor was," Francis said, and shivered and hugged himself. "Thank you for considering me your friend. If I may ask, my lords, why are you here? We come to beg for help from the king. It's been fifteen years, surely the feud has died by now. And if not, at least we tried."

"I wanted to come," said Ludwig. "I wish to seek audience with the king's brother. He was my playmate in my childhood, and I want to see if I can save him from his brother's clutches, poor boy."

"Yes, I think I remember him and his brothers," said Antonio. "Sweet little boys, they were. Well, the oldest was fiery-tempered, but he was never this bad. Surely there's some mistake."

The cathedral bells rang out a great knell, and the crowd fell silent; in the highest window of the tower above the wall of death-masks, the velvet curtain shivered and a sun-browned hand drew it back, revealing three young gentlemen with brown hair and limpid eyes. The oldest had the darkest hair, topped with a golden crown which matched his eyes, and an expression of most foul contempt. This was the source of the city's fear. This was King Lovino.

"Oh, poor Feli," murmured Ludwig, looking at the second youth, whose hair was a redder brown and whose face was filled with sorrow. The third, a mere lad with bright green eyes, held his hand.

"The king and his brothers show themselves," Francis said to Gilbert. "As beautiful as every tale says and more, all three of them, and yet the king looks so cruel. Perhaps we were wrong to come here."

"Perhaps," said Gilbert, and stopped when he heard the tiny intake of breath from Antonio. "What was that?" Ludwig and Francis turned, and looked in horror at Antonio. The young duke's eyes, a-glitter with bliss, were fixed upon the king.

"Oh rapture, oh ecstasy, oh beauty most sublime!" he breathed, fingers pressed to his lips, and for a moment King Lovino's gaze seemed to fall upon him. His companions held their breath, but the king's glance passed them by, and they sighed with relief until Antonio sprang forward, crying "My king, my king! Please let me take your challenge!"

From such a distance the king did not hear him, but the crowd did. Gasps arose around him, and the crowd drew away from him, leaving a clear path to the castle gates. Antonio ran full-tilt to the gate and hammered upon it with a fist until three nervous men in high-ranking servant's regalia arrived, and the brown-haired one bearing a chancellor's medallion said "Good morning, sir, how may we assist you?"

"I wish to face the king's challenge, good sirs," said Antonio, with a bow, and the three shivered.

"Oh, sir, please, no!" said the second, who had glasses and a steward's uniform. "Not so soon. Must we lose two in a day now?"

"Sir, I beg you, leave!" wailed the third, short and clad in white hat and apron. "This palace is a slaughterhouse! So many heads have fallen here, don't add yours."

"Slaughterhouse it may be, but the outside world is a dark dungeon without the sight of Lovino," said Antonio, and thrust his hand through the bars, grasping for the second man's withheld keys. "Let me in!"

"His Majesty is but a man, sir - a fine and kingly man, but still a man!" said the chancellor. "Help me, Eduard!"

"The world is full of beautiful men and women, and a man like you could have any you want, as many as you want!" said the steward, struggling with Antonio's grasping hands. "Raivis, hide my keys!"

"Our graveyards are full, sir, please don't add to them," said the chef, and took the keys from Eduard, but he fumbled them, and Antonio took the opportunity to clutch his wrist and pull hard enough to slam him into the gate. "Ow! Toris, stop him!"

It was too late; Antonio snatched the keys and within moments the gate was swinging open. He forced his way past the three servants and ran up the path, and just as they recovered their balance Gilbert and Ludwig and Francis shoved past them too. Eduard hurriedly re-locked the gate and they ran to catch up.

"Stop, stop!" cried Gilbert, cane swinging and Francis steadying him. "A- my friend, stop! I only just found you again, and now you want to leave forever? How is that fair?"

"How is it fair to ask a man to live without love?" said Francis, eyes damp, and Gilbert turned his face to him in surprise. "Please. I have felt the loss of love, and death would be kinder than never having the chance to even try."

Ludwig glanced up at a window, from which the russet-haired princes could be seen peering from behind a curtain, and said nothing.

"What? I'm sorry, sir, that's foolish!" cried Toris. "No suitor has answered the king's riddles! Stone and iron couldn't be harder."

"Nor the suitor's stubborn heads," murmured Eduard.

"Nor the king's black heart," whispered Raivis.

"Nevertheless, I must try," said Antonio, and marched up to the great gong in the courtyard. Upon it lay a sign, which read: "Strike thrice to face the challenge if you dare. If you value your head, turn back. To live is such a blessing". Beneath the words lay the signatures of King Lovino, Prince Feliciano, and Prince Sebastian.

"My king, my king!" cried Antonio, and picked up the beater, and struck with all his might once, twice, three times! The sound echoed across the courtyard and through the castle and into the streets, and the citizens doffed their hats and bowed their heads for the latest poor fool.

From the high window, the king looked out, and smiled cruelly.

~

"Prince Feliciano of the Highlands, and Prince Sebastian of the Islands," announced Eduard to the throne room, and the two princes took their seats, one on each side of the two thrones. One throne was conspicuously dusty. Beside the dais lay a table, upon which were three scrolls, the wax seals emblazoned with "1", "2", and "3". Antonio knelt before them, and Prince Feliciano wiped his squinting eyes. "Toris, Eduard, Raivis, have you made the arrangements?" he said.

"Yes, sir," said Toris. "Every part."

"I prepared the wedding-" said Raivis.

"-and I the funeral," said Eduard.

"Stranger, what is your name?"

"I prefer to keep it to myself, your highnesses," said Antonio. "I can tell you afterwards, can I not?"

"Very well, but I must ask you to reconsider," said Feliciano. "We've seen enough of this. Fifteen years since he made the vow, seven years since his first suitor came, and over a hundred challengers. How many last year, Toris?"

"Six last year."

"Eight the year before that."

"And now two in a day!"

Sebastian sighed. "And still they come fast and thick. Surely our country is not so rich and our faces not so fair to be worth your life? Please leave. There's no dishonour in not taking an impossible challenge!"

"Your highnesses, I must. If I do not take this challenge, I will waste away and die for love anyway. Beheading would be kinder."

Feliciano sniffed, and his eyes opened wide, gleaming amber, full of diamond tears. "Oh, my heart... Very well." Sebastian bowed his head, and Eduard struck a bell, and footsteps fell in the hallway.

"King Lovino comes to face his suitor," said Eduard, voice trembling.

The door creaked open, and there stood the smirking king, clad all in gold to match his eyes, his gaze as cold as iron. Behind him walked the Archbishop, a trustworthy witness to the trial.

Toris cleared his throat and read from a scroll. "Hear my words as I speak the law of this land. King Lovino has decreed that neither he nor his brothers the Princes of the Highlands and Islands shall marry until a suitor is able to answer the three riddles he has set; that suitor shall wed the brother of their choice, and all who fail to answer will be taken with all haste to the place of execution and their death masks placed upon the outer walls of the palace as a warning to others. So the King has spoken, so shall it be." He returned to the sidelines with Eduard and Raivis, and they huddled trembling together, on the opposite side of the room from the impassive executioner.

King Lovino nodded, and said "So which one is it this time? Feliciano? I know that lovesick look, when they have that it's usually Feliciano."

"No, your majesty," said Antonio.

"Ah, one for Sebastian then. I suppose they're getting more frequent now he's older."

"No, your majesty. It is you I come to court."

The king's cruel mask wavered in surprise, his eyebrows briefly rising. "Really? Usually the ones who come for me seek gold and land. Do you not fear me?"

"No, your majesty."

"You should, idiot," Lovino snorted.

"But your majesty, you have my heart. How can I fear you? And I will win yours."

"My heart? My _heart?_ " Lovino let out a bark of angry laughter. "In the place where my heart once was a tragedy lives forever! Have you never heard the story of my grandfather?"

"I have, sire. Your grandfather was a great king, and a fine man."

"Hah. My grandfather was a fool to love so freely. My grandfather collected hearts across the world, and broke them too, until his own heart was pierced by the blade of his favoured lover. The Northern king betrayed my grandfather, murdered him!"

"Sire, no! He was sorely wounded and dying already. King Alaric killed him as an act of mercy."

Lovino's wicked smile returned, thinner and crueller than before. "Spent time in the North? I'm sure that's what they told you. I was _there,_ stranger. I hid beneath the bed and Grandfather's blood spilled on my hands."

"Did you hear what they _said,_ though?" asked Sebastian, frowning. "Mother did say..."

"Shut up!" snapped Lovino. "That day fifteen years ago I saw love is for the foolish. Love is a lie, and marriage a trap! I'll not walk into it, nor let my brothers be caught, and nor will I hand over my kingdom to gold-diggers. I rule alone!" In a rage he snatched the bell from Eduard and hurled it to the ground, and it landed with a _clang._ Lovino hurled himself into his throne and put up his feet on the empty one. "And so I decided my riddle challenge is perfect. No one stupid enough to try would be smart enough to answer! Last chance to turn back, stranger."

"Your majesty, I plead one last time to take your test, and trust to love to guide me," said Antonio. "If I lose, I die for love. What could be more noble?"

"Then stand. The trial begins."

From the corner, whispers came. "The poor man, he won't get one right," said Raivis.

"I don't know, he looks sharp enough to me," said Eduard. "Maybe he can get one."

"Knowing our luck," said Toris, "we'll watch him get two right and he'll fail the last. I always dread that."

The executioner glared, and they quickly became silent.

Lovino sat up, cleared his throat, and leaned forward. "'In the gloom of darkest night a shining phantom flies. All invoke it, all deluded, and in the dawn it dies.' What is your answer, stranger?"

Antonio beamed, and said "Your majesty, how can I not see what is in my own heart? You speak of _hope._ In the dark night of suffering it is born, and when the dawn of relief arrives it is fulfilled and thus not needed, so it fades."

Toris hurried forward and opened the scroll marked 1, and said "It _is_ hope!" A murmur arose around the room, and Raivis clasped his hands, his eyes glimmering with just a touch of the thing named on the scroll.

"Yes," said Lovino with bad grace. "And I see it deludes you too."

"The second riddle, sire?"

"Very well. 'A river flows both cold and hot; flickers like flame and yet is not.'"

"Hm..." Antonio twisted his fingers together in thought, and then placed one on his wrist. "The pulse flickers, and fire is red; I feel hot with joy and all others in this room seem cold with fear. It is _blood!"_

Eduard opened the second scroll, and cried "It _is_ blood!" Servants and princes alike gasped, and Eduard withdrew, murmuring "Let's hope you were wrong, Toris."

"You can do it!" said Sebastian, on the edge of his seat. Lovino gave him such a vicious glare he shrank back and hid behind his hands.

"The third, then!" Lovino stood up, and fairly shouted the final riddle. "'Ice that burns and with fire grows colder! Its shell a roseless thorn! Its blackness will consume your heart and you'll wish you'd not been born!'"

Antonio gasped, and remained silent for several moments. Lovino chuckled. "No answer? Very well. Guards! Executioner! Stranger, tell us your name so we may make your tombstone."

"No, your majesty, I do have the answer!" said Antonio, and Lovino paused as he saw tears rising in the man's green eyes. "No wonder nobody has answered this one. Those blinded by fear or by lust for gold or beauty could not answer. Only one who sees through your eyes could." He sprang forward and clutched Lovino's hand; the king was too surprised to stop him. "'With fire grows colder'; the fire is in my heart. 'A roseless thorn'? Is that truly how you see _yourself,_ my king?"

The room fell silent, and with trembling hands Raivis opened the third scroll. "... the king?" he stuttered. "It-it... it _is!_ It _is_ the king!"

The silence was broken by whoops and cheers, the executioner almost dropped his axe in shock, and the two princes leapt up and danced around the dais, clasping each other's hands and shouting "We're free, we're free, we're free!" Toris and Eduard and Raivis threw their arms around each other and thumped each other's backs, tears flowing freely, and the guards were about to scatter and spread the good news when the king wailed _"NO!"_

The evil manner Lovino wore was gone, his face stark white beneath his tan, his hands trembling. He looked like a frightened child. He fell on the Archbishop and clung to his robe. "No, no, you can't make me! I won't do it."

"Your majesty, you must," said the Archbishop sternly. "The oath you made is sacred."

"Your _king_ is sacred! Your _nephew_ is sacred, uncle. You can't hand me over to him. I'm not a slave." Lovino shook beneath the unwavering glares of his court; when he saw no help was coming, he shrieked "Fine!", drew his ceremonial sword, and prepared to fall on it. His brothers sprang forward to help the Archbishop wrench it away, suffering cuts and bruises as he thrashed wildly with the flat, and the three servants screamed and clung together.

 _"Stop!"_ shouted Antonio. "Stop! I won't force you to marry me! I don't want to see you suffer so!" Lovino stopped and lowered his sword, looking at Antonio in confusion. Antonio continued; "I do want you to marry me, but not if you're so afraid of me. I propose another game. You like riddles; I have one for you. If you solve it, you may behead me."

Lovino bit his lip, clearly pondering what would happen if he didn't win, but his pride forced him to say "What is this riddle, then?"

Antonio smiled innocently, and said "Before dawn tomorrow, you must find my name."

~

"Hear my words as I speak the law of this land!" Toris shouted in a wavering voice to the crowd surrounding the palace walls. Below, Eduard and Raivis nailed up posters of Antonio's face, their hands shaking so much their hammers kept missing the nails. "King Lovino has decreed that none shall sleep until the name of this man is brought to him! Should this name not be known before sunrise, all who failed will die! So the king has spoken, so let it be!" He took a deep breath, and tried to calm himself. Whatever Lovino decreed, surely he couldn't actually execute the entire city.

Antonio perched in a tree in the town square, hidden from sight in the leaves as the crowd scattered below him, and said to himself "What fun! City-wide hide and seek." When the square emptied, he dropped down and pulled his cloak about his face. "Ah, Lovino. I hope he's calmed down by morning. His brothers should talk to him."

Hour after hour the night wore on, and Antonio continued dodging capture, hiding in alleys and on rooftops and everywhere else he could find space. He overheard many discussions, but none had recognised the foreign duke, and he had given his name to none in the city for fear of enemy spies. He chuckled to himself. He was winning!

"Stranger!" came a hiss behind him, and Antonio nearly jumped out of his skin. When he turned, Eduard and Raivis stood behind him.

"Sir," said Raivis, and dropped to his knees. "I beg you to reconsider. Please, I've never seen the king like this. I'm scared."

"I'm not, and I'm the one he's mad at," said Antonio brightly. "I'm sure he won't really punish you for my upsetting him."

"You don't know his majesty, sir," said Eduard, placing a hand on Raivis' arm. "Please, is there _anything_ we can offer you to leave? Men? Women? The city's overflowing with them."

"I know, and none of them are Lovino."

"Gold, then?" said Raivis. "Any amount of gold. Any gems in the treasury! Name them and they're yours. Any plot of land in the kingdom to earn your own wealth!"

Eduard clasped his hands. "Fame? The king's so desperate he might let you tell that you solved his riddles, if you only go away!"

"Glory in battle? We'll appoint you general!"

"Do you truly think so little of me?" growled Antonio. "I won't give in. Your king set this challenge and I've been more than generous, and I understand he's scared but I won't harm him. I only want to be near him, and I won't give up that chance for anything!"

"For your friends?" came a whisper. Antonio turned to see Toris, whose face was deathly white, and so were his knuckles from wringing his hands so hard. Toris swallowed, and said "I'm sorry, sir, but... your companions, the one you arrived with and the two you met. They were found and brought to the castle, and... the king is torturing them."

Without a word, Antonio ran, and the servants followed.

~

Blood ran down into Ludwig's bruised eye, and Gilbert licked his split lips. Francis tried to move his fingers, and found it hurt too much. The scar-faced executioner stood behind the chair to which Gilbert was chained, and Lovino stalked between the chairs which held Ludwig and Francis. Feliciano and Sebastian huddled nearby, tears streaming down Feli's face, Sebastian's hand pressed to his mouth as if he'd vomit.

"Stop!" shouted Ludwig. "Please let them go. They don't know, I swear they don't know." He glanced up at the sky; the moon was on its way down, but it was still a long time till dawn. Still, he was strong, and he'd faced pain before. He could do it for the life of a friend.

Lovino spun to face him. "You arrived with him, you must know even if they don't. My good citizens tell me that you cried 'brother' when you met these two. Which one of them is your brother?" Silence, and Lovino folded his arms. "Well? Tell me!"

Francis grit his teeth, and in an accent not his own cried out "I am!"

Lovino looked at his blue eyes and golden hair, and back at Ludwig's blue eyes and golden hair, and believed him. "Ha, yes, I should have guessed. This other fellow's far too old," he said, kicking Gilbert's chair. Gilbert snarled under his breath. He was not old, but his hair was white and his face had grown lined from suffering, and now he no longer had his kingly attire or his famous red eyes, Lovino had not recognised him. What was Francis doing, he wondered, but he stayed silent, until Lovino nodded to the executioner and said "Break his other hand."

"What?" Gilbert cried. "No, stop-"

"Sir, please!" Francis shouted, keeping up an accent in imitation of Gilbert and Ludwig's own, despite the pain he was in. Lovino assumed Francis was talking to him and ignored him. "Let me do this," he hissed, and tears from Gilbert's empty sockets moistened his bandage. Of course. Ludwig wouldn't be able to bear seeing his real brother harmed, and that would make him speak, but he didn't know Francis at all. One of them might still break, but Francis had bought them a little time.

The executioner took hold of Francis' other hand, and bent the fingers back until there was a crunching sound, and Francis screamed. As the sound faded, another scream rose; Antonio's. He flew up the path, the three servants behind him.

"Stop, your majesty, stop!" he shouted. "My name is-"

"Don't say it!" Francis called to him. "Or my actions will be in vain."

"But why? Why would you do this?" Antono said, running to Francis' side.

Francis smiled, though sweat beaded on his pale brow. "For love, my friend, for my love of my friends and your love of the king. Something he knows nothing of- ah!" Lovino hit him in the face, and he spat blood.

"Lovi, Lovi, no! Don't make him right!" wailed Feliciano. "This isn't you! You're not _evil,_ brother. I know you're just angry, and scared..."

"Of course I'm angry!" snarled Lovino. "My freedom is at stake, and so is my kingdom. Do you want me to hand over my people to a stranger?" Feliciano trembled and scuffed his boots on the ground. Lovino didn't notice.

Antonio held up his hands. "I promise I don't want your kingdom or your gold, and I can tell you I know how to rule. I won't harm your people or you. I will never so much as touch you if you don't want me to. I just want to be near you and to make you happy in return."

"You w-want me to be happy?" Lovino's hard expression flickered, just once, and then turned to rage. "Then tell me your name!" He snatched a knife from the executioner's belt and flailed it wildly; Antonio and his companions shrank away. "I'll kill them! I swear I will! Tell me or I'll kill them all!"

Antonio looked at his terrified audience and the raving king, and said "Very well. Do it - with your own hands."

The chained men gasped, and Lovino fumbled the knife. "I-I will. Don't think I won't!" He stepped backwards, closer to Francis, and the executioner moved out of his way, watching with a hint of curiosity. "I'll skin them alive! I'll cut out their tripes!"

Gilbert caught Antonio's intention, and snapped "Then do it, coward!" Lovino put the knife to Gilbert's face and sliced haphazardly, leaving him with one shallow cut. "Death by a thousand cuts, then?"

"Shut up! J-just for that I'll kill you last!" Lovino whirled on Francis and held the knifepoint to his face, hand shaking so violently the knife ran in circles.

Ludwig sighed. "Have you ever even watched an execution you ordered, my king? Do you have any understanding of the suffering you brought at all?"

"I understand death. I have lost loved ones too, idiot, or have you not heard my story?"

Antonio watched, arms folded, and said "I have. 'Love is for fools, love is a lie', you told me."

In the silence that followed, Francis succeeded in freeing his slightly less damaged hand. Lovino's grip on the knife was so weak even Francis' broken fingers were able to take it from him. He looked the king in the eye, said "To keep me silent," and before anyone could stop him he thrust the knife into his mouth.

Raivis shrieked, Eduard shrank back, but Toris rushed forward immediately, handkerchief in hand, and forced it into Francis' mouth, fumbling to bind it around his wounded tongue. Antonio held Francis' lolling head and looked into his eyes, clouding into unconsciousness. Francis' laugh was muffled. The knife was glass-sharp and he had cut deeper than he meant to.

"Francis! Oh, Francis, why'd you do it?"

"Call the doctor, call the doctor!"

"What? What's happening? What did you do?" Gilbert thrashed in his bonds, looking fruitlessly around and trying to hear clues amid the screaming. Lovino shoved the executioner toward him, and the man shrugged and started unlocking him and Ludwig, who ran to embrace his brother.

Francis rapidly fell into unconsciousness, and Toris was able to take a closer look at the wound. "Holy... Get him to a doctor. Right now. Eduard, help me carry him."

"No, wait," said Gilbert, raising his hand. "Let me." Toris draped Francis' left arm around his neck and his right arm around Gilbert's, and they made their way towards the street, Raivis running on ahead to alert the physician quickly. The little crowd heard Gilbert's murmur. "He's carried me for so long. I can carry him a little way." Ludwig looked at Antonio briefly, and ran after them.

Lovino looked at the blood spatter on his golden clothing, and cleared his throat. "I, uh, I presume he won't be talking. Or writing."

"He's lucky to be _alive,_ sire," said Eduard. "Tongues bleed a lot, and we can only hope there's no infection."

"'Love is a lie', huh?" said Prince Sebastian.

"I meant romantic love," Lovino said hurriedly. "Of course I love you and Feli."

"If you loved us, you'd let us marry who we wanted."

"And let you get hurt?"

"How can they ever find happiness if you won't let them risk getting hurt?" said Antonio gently. "And even if they do, let me tell you I know it's better to suffer or die free than live imprisoned."

"Wellll..." Feli said, shifting his feet again. "We've been, uh, stopping Lovi doing things he wanted to do too." At Lovino's puzzled look, he continued. "Toris made sure the law said 'taken to the place of execution'... so we took them there and didn't do anything to them and then we took them to the harbour and put them on a ship. All our hundred suitors are alive. We couldn't let them go home because they'd tell, they're all sort of under house arrest in a castle on one of Seb's islands, but they are alive."

"Wh-what? Abel, is this true?"

"It's true," said the executioner, bowing his head. "They paid me." He paused, and sighed. "And I didn't want my king to become a murderer. We all knew you'd regret it some day."

"I suspected all along," said Antonio, and Lovino gaped at him. "Just another riddle, your majesty. If you were truly so bloodthirsty, why hang the masks and not the heads? I knew you weren't so wicked."

Lovino burst into tears, and his brothers hugged him hard. Antonio joined the embrace, and Lovino struggled weakly. "No! No, don't touch me."

Antonio released him, and said "See? I will not hurt you." He sighed deeply. "Poor Lovino, so fearful. I'm sorry. You really don't want this. Very well; my name is-"

"No!" Lovino said hurriedly. "I don't want to _cheat."_

"But you don't want to lose."

"I'd rather lose fairly. I have my pride."

"Very well, then. Even if I win, I won't hold you to it." Antonio took the king's hand, and kissed it, and said "Farewell then, little tomato." He turned on his heel and disappeared down the path.

"Huh?" Lovino furrowed his brow, certain he had misheard. What a strange thing to call your king, or your beloved... but not a strange thing to call a fat little boy with a face reddened by temper. Yes, someone had called him that when he was young.

"I know who he is," said Feliciano. "I don't remember his name but I know his face. We can look him up in the records." Lovino turned his baffled face on his brother, and Feli shrugged and laughed nervously. "I recognised Luddi and Gil and I know this man was Gil's friend. Didn't you?"

"Who's Gil...? Oh. _Oh._ Why didn't you say anything? You could have stopped all this!"

"For love, brother. Ludwig wouldn't want me to kill his brother's friend. Would you want me to kill your friend?"

Lovino laughed bitterly. "What friend?"

~

At dawn, the bells rang out, and as many as could fit in the streets beneath the palace walls gathered to hear whether the king had won. He and his brothers and the three servants stood on the walltop; Antonio stood in the courtyard below, awaiting his fate. Not far away, Abel stood at a chopping block, just in case the king decided this time he wanted to make sure.

"My people, I thank you all for your tireless efforts. I am happy to report that I have learned the stranger's name. And his name is..."

Antonio sighed. So that was how it was. He turned and took a step towards the block. Abel's face remained impassive.

"His name is Love!"

Antonio and Abel stopped and looked up, and there was a murmur of conversation from the crowd.

"Yes," Lovino continued, head bowed. "Because he and his companions and my brothers between them have shown me that love is real, and it's all thanks to him." Quick as a flash, he lost his remorseful manner, spun around, and started shouting. "Abel! Toris! Take down the death masks and melt them all down. Little brothers, arrange a ship to the island, so we can show the people our suitors are _not_ dead! Eduard, Raivis, get started on a city-wide party! Now! Get to it!"

Hesitant cheers trickled up from here and there in the crowd, and as they realised this was no trick more and more joined in. The three servants put their orders on hold to sob into each other's shoulders and kiss each other's cheeks, and the two princes danced and sang and hugged their brother. Antonio ran up the steps, and the applause and whoops of joy swelled as he waved with one hand and took Lovino's in the other. Below them, Gilbert leaned on his cane and grinned up. "Awesome, Tony, really awesome."

Gilbert jumped as someone took his arm, and relaxed as he realised it was Ludwig. Ludwig mopped his brow, hot from running, and pulled his brother to the palace gates, waving to Toris on the way. Toris flew down the steps and unlocked the door, followed by Antonio and Lovino, and Ludwig shouted "Francis is awake! The doctor says he should recover, and with great luck he may even be able to speak again!"

Lovino relaxed, wiped his eyes, and said gruffly "Yeah, well, I was sure he wasn't really hurt. And don't think this means I'm going to actually marry you!" he snapped at Antonio. "I still won, _Duke Antonio!_ I found you in the royal records!"

"Ha, so you did! That's fine, a riddle contest isn't much of a courtship anyway. Say I've won a year to win you over?" said Antonio, beaming wider than ever.

Lovino scowled. "A year _and_ a day, that's how it's done."

"Agreed."

Feliciano blew his nose and said "Lovi, Lovi, does that mean we can marry freely now?"

"I guess, yeah..."

As soon as the words left Lovino's mouth, Feliciano was on one knee in front of the startled Ludwig.

~

When the rescue ship sailed off to the castle on the island, it was already empty. Many of the challengers were, after all, heroes, and had rescued those who couldn't escape and made their own ways home. Many of them had been too briefly on the island to know other challengers had survived, and had gone into hiding for fear of being found. Others had arrived in clusters, and as it turned out later, a few had met their own true loves there. Messengers were sent out immediately to issue formal apologies to every suitor, and while they still hated Lovino, they were grateful to Antonio and the princes for letting them come out of hiding. Antonio and Gilbert decided to call in the favours.

Lovino and his brothers were not accomplished military men, but their father and grandfather certainly had been, and the wise generals ran the army as well as ever it had been run. With Antonio at the head, Lovino's army joined with those of the freed suitors, and before the year and a day was up they had defeated the usurper Lord Shickelgruber and taken back Gilbert's land. The wicked lord vanished into the very same exile he'd condemned Gilbert and his friends to, and when they found the dungeons and freed those imprisoned for rebellion, Sebastian found to his delight that Francis had a little sister, a clever and sophisticated girl named Lucille.

Uncle Mario the archbishop performed three weddings together, exactly a year and a day after Antonio had succeeded. Wine flowed freely, the sun shone brightly, and Francis, now a duke as Gilbert had promised, ate without struggle and said "Congratulations" with perfect clarity.

As the night wore on, Lovino grew weary of dancing, and wandered out onto the balcony. The new Prince Consort Antonio followed him. Lovino seemed to ignore him, but Antonio had learned to guess when Lovino was looking at him sideways. Antonio put a hand on his new husband's arm, and said "Are you happy?"

Lovino snickered. "I've been defeated and taken far from home, and my brothers ran off to get married, and you ask if I'm happy? Now there's a riddle I couldn't have answered a year ago."

"Ha, good one!" Antonio laughed. "Try this one; what's over the water and under the water and never gets wet?"

"Oh, come on, that's a baby's riddle - an egg inside a duck!" Lovino smirked, and said "Can God make a boulder so heavy He couldn't lift it?"

Antonio thought for a moment, and said "Yes, and then He could lift it. What's green, has ten legs, and hops?"

"Five leprechauns drinking beer. What goes up a hill with three legs and comes down with four legs?"

"Um..." Antonio thought, and thought, and thought, and shrugged. "I don't know."

"Aha!" Lovino whooped, jabbing him with a finger. "I beat you! I beat you!"

"Does this mean you have to cut my head off now?"

Lovino chuckled. "Maybe not, as long as it pleases me not to."

"Then I'd better make sure of that," said Antonio, and pulled him into a kiss. Many long moments later, he pulled away, and Lovino tried to follow, but Antonio said "So what is the answer?"

Lovino shrugged, and said "Damned if I know."

"Oh, come on! Cheater, cheater!" Antonio lifted him an inch of the ground and ruffled his hair, ignoring his yelps and halfhearted punches. Lovino managed to wrestle his way free and scowled as Antonio laughed, but his eyes glimmered with a touch of merriment. They both leaned on the railing and looked out at the stars, smiling, until Antonio said "Wait, wasn't there a carpenter's shop on one of the hills in your place? Then it's a broken chair."

_"... damn it!"_


End file.
